Along Civilization's Trail (1940). First edition.pdf

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* G w iL i U ix u ^ i

By Ralph M. Lewis



/UotUf ClolUâiixuABy RALPH M. LEWIS. F. R. C.

Imperator ol the Rosicrucian Order

{or North and South America

Here is a book that you will enjoy reading—no matter what your be-liefs or affiliations—because it willgive you an insight into the strangepractices and customs of the peoplesof the oriental and ancient worldsfrom which our civilization sprang.

•

The author takes you to the outoftheway places where practices areperpetuated which are often mis-understood — and ge nera lly calledmagic. He describes the sites of temples and ruins of ancient cities

which were the birthplaces of our

beliefs in God, life after death, andthe answer to the mysteries of ourexistence.

•

You are taken by this book intothe heart of the Great Pyramid,

where there is perform ed a fasci-nating ceremony on an eventful day —a ceremony performed for the firsttime after three thousand years. Youmeet, through the author, adepts,masters and teachers of the Her-metic Brotherhoods of Europe.

•

You are permitted to look behindthe scenes of the conditions existingin the countries of Asia Minor, to

learn why these countries have al- w ays p layed such a prominent anddecisive part in all of the great warsof the world. If you love mysticism,adventure, and travel, this book willgratify you.

• Price $2.25

THE PUBLISHERS

MTHO. INU. S. A. | ^ l t



<7 - / 0 - ^ j



S & <3 , J 'J 3 y

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I







ALONG

CI VIL IZ A TIO N ’S

TRAILB Y

R A L P H M . L E W I S , F. R . C .

Imperator of the Rosicrudan Order of Nor th and South America

So reign Regional Grand Master of the Martinist

Order for United States

Rosicrudan Library

Volume XIX

S U P R E M E G R A N D L O D G E O F A M O R C

Printing and Publishing Deportment

San Jose, California



Copyright 1040

B y A M O R C

Printed and BounJ in U. S. A. by

The RO SICRLJCIAN PRE SS. Ltd.




Dedication

V

T o M y F a t h e r

YVfiose humanitarian spirit and genius made

me not alone proud to be his son hut

also to have had him as my

preceptor and ideal of

accomplishment

in life

I Dedica t e Th i s B ook

A s a humble reminder of the light and

comfort he brought into the hues

of thousands of men and

women throughout

the world.



The Rosicrudan Library

V

I. Rosicrucian Questions and Answers with Complete

History of the Order.

II. Rosicrucian Principles for th^ Home and Business.

III. The Mystical Life of Jesus.

IV . The Secret Doctrines of Jesus.

V . "Unto Thee I Grant . . (Secret Teachings of Tibet.)

VI. A Thousand Years of Yesterdays.

(A Revelation of Reincarnation.)

VII. Self Mastery and Fate with the Cycles of Life.

(A Vocational Guide.)

VIII. Rosicrucian Manual.

IX. Mystics at Prayer.

X. Rosicrucian Healing. (In preparation.)

XI. Mansions of the Soul. (The Cosmic Conception.)

XII. Lemuria, The Lost Continent of the Pacific.

XIII. The 1 echnique of the Master.

X IV . 1 lie Symbolic Prophecy of the Great Pyramid.

X V . The Book of Jasher.

XVI. The Technique of the Disciple.

XVII . Mental Poisoning.

XVIII . Glands — Our Invisible Guardians.

XIX . Along Civilization s Tra il.

(Other volumes will be added from time to time. Write f or complete catalogue.)



Contents

VCHAPTER PAGE

Introduction ......................................................................................................... 9

I. W e Begin Our Journey ................................................................... 17

II. Our Mystical Initiations.................................................................... 33

III. A City of Strange Co ntra sts .............................................................. 49

IV. Mother Nile ......................................................................................... 65

V . Prophecy Day in the Great Pyram id ............................................ 77

V I. Temples and Tombs .......................................................................... 91

VII. The Valley of the Kings.................................................................... 10 1

VIII. Strife in the Holy Land .................................................................... 113

IX . The Unknown Conditions of Palestine....................................... 125

X. Ancient Phoenicia............................................................................ 137

XI. The Oldest Inhabited City of the W orld......................................

<47

XII. Crossing the Mesopotamian Desert.............................................. 153

XIII. The City of the Arabian Nights .................................................. 163

XIV. Amid the Dust of the Ages ........................................................... 173

X V . I Relive a Life..................................................................................... 183

X V I. The Vineyard of W isdom .............................................................. 193

Appendix ........................................................................................................... 207

I L L U S T R A T I O N S

1 emple of Thutmose III.................................................................... 8

Filming Stonehenge........................................................................... 28

The Garret Laboratory of Cagliostro............................................ 59

TempleTomb of Queen Hatshepsut............................................ 103

The W ell of the Maai. ........................................................ 13 3

Once Mighty Babylon......................................................................

178

W indows of the East......................................................................... 195



BSSBbu iH xm SEi

T E M P L E O F T H U T M O S E I I I

The cartouche of Thutmose III, used in North and South America as

part of the Rosicrucian emblems, is clearly shown in the carving aroundand above the center portal of this Temple. 1he benediction and adora-

tions to the "God of all Gods, ruling forever and ever eternally” are

clearly seen.(Photo by AMOR C)



I N T R O D U C T I O N

N o o n e p e o p l e or race in the world s history stands alone

as civilized. If any single nation or people is to be designated

as representing civilization, then all organized society since the

advent of reason must likewise bear the same distinction. C iv i-

lization is neither a state into which humanity is suddenly pre-

cipitated, nor is it indigenous to a location or race, nor confinedto a period of history. Further, it is not attained by a people as

a consequent reward for some conduct or sacrifices made. It is

a gradual growth, more appropriately an evolutionary process,

that h as existed since the beginning of all human society.

The underlying factors of civilization are to be found wherever

people have striven together and exchanged the results of their

efforts. To point out a people as civilized is not to proclaim what

they have materialized, but whether the factors existed in their

society. If, for example, it is agreed that a man is in motion

when he runs, because motion, by its nature, no matter what its

extent, differs from inertia, then by the same reasoning, when

man walks or even crawls he is likewise moving. 1 his evolu-

tionary process of civilization is one of refinement — a refinement

of human existence. The refinement in its aspects is twofold.

One phase is tke external and the other we may term theinternal. This external refinement is brought about by man's

relationship to the world in which he lives. In its rudest form,

this relationship consists of utilizing the elements and resources

of nature to satisfy his elemental desires and appetites. In other

words, a primitive mind does not appraise the things of earth

because of their inherent beauty or because of any realization of

the majesty of their underlying natural laws. They are seized

upon or avoided only as the fundamental urges of man s beingcause him to be aware of their effect upon him. Th us a savage

will climb a tree when hungry to pluck wild fruit, but neither



the tree nor the fruit suggests anything else to his mind than

appeasement of his appetite.The use of nature s resources requires exertion and expendi-

ture of effort. This exertion to which man is put is likewise of

two definite kinds. The first may be classified as instinctive.

This is defined as that exertion which is without volition, with-

out decision, and not of the influence of our wi II. It is a reflex

action, a simple, inherent method of response to a stimulus un-

consciously formed. Such exertion is displayed when we jump

when startled by a sudden loud noise or touch upon the back

by one whose presence was not known. The other kind of

exertion is that effort which is intentionally expended to accom-

plish an end. Such efforts are causative. They are expended

to produce something desired. W e consequently have control

over such exertions. They constitute our wilful acts. The satis-

faction we may derive from the expenditure of such efforts is

but an incidental to that expected from the result. ITie savage,moved to climb a tree to pluck an apple, is not concerned with

the pleasures, if any, to be derived from climbing, but in eating

the apple when it is secured. In fact, most efforts expended to

gain an end prove to be, in themselves, annoying, irritating,

sometimes fatiguing, and more often just endurable. These w il-

ful efforts are just necessary exertions.

The aspect of external refinement of which civilization con-sists, then, is the reduction of the effort necessary for any

accomplishment. A people which is said to be displaying signs

of being civilized will reveal in its habits and ways of living

a gradual departure from the crudest methods for gaining an

end. This external refinement is a process of improvement of

man s relationship to the physical world. Material civilization,

by this reasoning, is found to be a simplification of the methods

of living, combined, however, with an expansion of its joys.

Concisely, then, the results ol material civilization are found to

exist in a minimum of effort to live, and a maximum of the fruits

of living. W hen this is applied to the former analogy of the



apple tree, we find the civilized man having easier access by a

ladder, for example, to the higher limbs of the tree, and further,

being able at the same time to obtain more apples.

W hether this external refinement of man’s relationship to the

world, namely, physical civilization, as we shall call it, has made

any progress, need not be a matter of conjecture. It can easily

be determined by a comparison of the events, habits and cus-

toms of today with those chronicled in history. The advance-

ment of twentieth century civilization in this respect is quite

apparent. One cannot help, for example, but be fully cognizant

of the great advantages of conserving effort in tilling the soil

when using a tractor, as compared with the hoe culture of the

ancient Sumerians. However, hoe culture in itself is a trend and

product of civilization, it is a definite advance over those centu-

ries of darkness when man was incapable of even that simple

form of earth culture. The spirit that moved men forty centuries

ago to erect great stone temples along the banks of the Nile,

with their majestic hypostyles, is no less or ruder than that whichcauses men today to construct the steel skyscrapers which tower

heavenward.

If we think — and if, in fact —our modern achievements excel

those of the ages that have gone before, it is only because men

of today have had the added advantage of a vast heritage of

experience upon which to draw. 1 hese experiences, when added

to the natural resources of an area in which people dwell, are

an asset that their progenitors did not possess. A boy cannotbe called a poor specimen of a man, for the latter has attributes

which are not natural to the former. The technique of living,

the methods of refinement of man s relationship to nature, com-

prise a valuable and very useful asset which is the added advan-

tage an intelligent man in every age has. If this were not so,

native intelligence alone would be sufficient in each age 'or man

to rise higher than the preceding level ol civilization, and there

would not need to exist the assiduous attempt to preserve the

arts and sciences, to hand them down to future generations. He



, 2 A L O N G C I V I L I Z A T I O N ' S T R A I L

who laughs at the efforts of men before his time is indicting

them for having been born in their age. The minds of eachage began where their predecessors left off.

The scientists of today, closeted in physics laboratories and

wrestling with the complex technical problems of television, dis-

play no more native intelligence than did Archimedes, the

mathematician of the third millenium B C . The Archimedean

screw which he devised and which, by rotating on an inclined

axis, raised water from one level to another by a mechanical

means for ihe first time in the history of the world, required a

profundity of original thought equal to what the best minds of

today may offer.

The other aspect of civilization, which we chose to call the

internal, is the refinement of man himself. Civilization is more

than physical environment. A savage may reside within the

shadow of a great cathedral or library, and his temperament

and comportment be untouched by their influence. Likewise, a

civilized man may reside in a savage environment, as, for in-

stance, if he be marooned upon an uninhabited island. Civ iliza -

tion consists of the unity of internal and external refinement.

W hen one exists without the other, it is incomplete.

Physiologically there is no quality or attribute that dis-

tinguishes the savage from the civilized man. M ech anically and

structurally they are the same. Physically, one may be superiorat one time or another; this is dependent upon prevailing topo-

graphical and geographical conditions. 1 hus a modern athlete

may be in better health and a more superb specimen physically

than some of the presentday savage tribesmen who periodically

suffer from malnutrition and ignorant abuse of their bodies. O n

the other hand, some aborigines, as the primitive Ethiopians for

example, are excellent types of virile manhood and put modemcivilized men to shame physically.

Psychologically, however, there is a vast gulf between the

civilized, cultured individual and the savage. The savage is

at all times moved only by the most primitive and powerful



forces of his nature. He obeys only the waves of passions and

appetites engendered by his instincts which surge over him.

Each act is egocentric. If it will not culminate in a personalgratification, it is not entertained. In fact, only negative efforts

are expended. Such acts are not committed because of their own

merit, but because of a need to quiet a disturbing sensation of

some kind which provokes them.

Civilization, then, in its internal refinement, as in its primitive

external phase, is closely bound to individual exertion. Every

effort expended is principally required among primitive people

for the preservation of life, the providing for sustenance and

shelter and the protection of self against the ravages of the ele-

ments, beasts and man. Life consists of a series of cycles of

intense pains and pleasures. One is alw ays contiguous upon

the other. Life is hardly ever upon an even plane. Conscious-

ness is precipitated from one extreme of sensations to the other.

The world of sensation, to the savage mind, is like a great sym-

phonic orchestra in which the brasses are played so loudly that

the soft and sweeter tones of the other instruments become in-

audible. Th e lesser emotions of the savage s being are com-

pletely submerged and unexpressed. Th ey can never rise with

strength enough to reach the threshold of consciousness. B e -

cause of this, none of the finer sentiments which the reason

attaches to these more delicate emotions are ever developed;

consequently, the very savage human is never aware of such

feelings as loyalty, justice and pride. Th e consciousness, beingat all times agitated only by the grosser sensations ol the appe-

tites and the instincts, is incapable of a sensitivity to those im-

pulses which form our sentiments and our estimation of the good.

A reduction of the effort to cope with environment or the

gradual development of an ease in living makes for leisure

periods, periods of mental passivity, free of exhaustion or any

intense sensations. It is during such states that the mind has

receptivity to the finer feelings which bring about the refinement of self — civilized man. A human who is not obliged to endure



hours of rigorous hunting and fighting while experiencing gnaw-

ing pangs of hunger will not drop from sheer exhaustion, neither

will he gorge himself into a soporific stupor. There will beintervals when his consciousness will respond to new and per-

haps, to him, strange feelings aroused by conditions within and

about him, to which, hitherto, he never gave his attention.

It must not be presumed, from this, that a prolific nature,

where life naturally thrives, is essential to civilization. In fact,

the combination of an ideal climate and lush vegetation with

its plentitude of natural foods is really an obstacle to civilization.

A people whose existence began in an extremely favorable en-

vironment, where little or no effort is required to gain sustenance,

and where no dangers or rigors of life are encountered, even

though it is afforded greater leisure, is incapable of an apprecia-

tion of those finer emotions which rise to the border of its

consciousness. W here life is offered resistance, but where the

struggle for life is not continuous or too severe, the faculties of

the individual are challenged, and by their use are developed.Opposition to desires sharpens the wits and develops the reason.

The consciousness becomes more acute, and is consequently

more susceptible to those impressions of the finer emotions.

VVhere there is not a sensitive mind, there is not the ability to

evaluate the delicate emotions, to form the sentiments, even if

they were experienced. In the South Seas are to be found

people who, though primitive in their method of living because

of the abundance and conduciveness to life ol nature, are quite

amicable and peaceful in their conduct. However, there is no

advancement, no refinement of self or of their external world

that could be considered the factors of a civilization. There is

no attempt to exnand the benefits of life, which we have seen

is one of the characteristic achievements of a civilized people.

It can be seen, therefore, that through external refinement, the

modification of environment, precedes internal refinement, oneis never truly a civilized individual until he is moved by the

higher sentiments which can more rightly be called the morals.



In a true state of civilization, where there is that lessening of

the expenditure of effort to preserve life and provide its funda-

mental needs, there is also an increasing moral effort. Themorals establish ideals which become ends sought, just as food

is sought to satisfy hunger. Effort is expended to realize these

ideals, and the individual s nature is refined, as were the things

outside of himself. W hereas external refinement was principally

motivated by necessity, a transition takes place and man chooses

to pursue the moral ideals. One may, for exam ple, find it neces-

sary to devise a better means of trapping game, but it cannotbe said that when he beautifies his dwelling he is actuated by

necessity. It can be positively declared that the decadence of a

civilization begins when the effort to obtain the necessities of

life is diminished to a minimum and there is no corresponding

effort to attain moral idealism.

A strong civilization is one where the rise of moral effort

equals the reduction in effort fur physical existence. Th is be-

comes more of an individual or family responsibility than one of society’s. A man who in his youth or early manhood experiences

some of the rigors of livelihood has the opportunity to develop a

moral sense and a strength of character by the demands made

upon his faculties and moral self. W rhen, then, a state of pros-

perity or greater ease of living is acquired, he is then fortified

so that he may divert his efforts into the higher channels of moral

idealism which make for the cultured, civilized, the self-restrained man. W here great wealth is inherited, and the indi-

vidual is born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, the

intelligence is never apt to be really stimulated and the mind

never fully appreciates or rightly evaluates the sentiments, and

consequently a savage disposition may be clothed in silken rai-

ment. There are, of course, exceptions to this. Riches too easily

acquired in early life are equivalent in their harmful influence

to a large inherited wealth. The individual has not, in suchcases, had sufficient time to develop concepts for the governing

of his life, based upon his morals. The great influx of wealth



brought about by the conquests in wKicb the individual himself

did not participate or expend effort brought about the decadence

of tbe Roman Empire.

Tbere can be no inertia for man. He cannot be physically,

mentally, and morally inactive alike, without becoming de-

generate. A corrupt civilization is far worse than savagery. Th e

former finds pleasure in perversity, while the other is compelled

to action by forces beyond its control and understanding. W hen

moral idealism falls in a higher state of civilization, the lower

nature of the individual becomes dominant. Passions and appe-tites reign supreme and the individual has in addition the power

of the highly organized means of society to satisfy them more

ruthlessly. He has, in other words, all of the attributes of civiliza-

tion at his disposal, the products of its arts and sciences, and

they are used not in further refinement of self or the world, but

in seli destruction — in war. W^hen moral idealism declines,

the products of civilization are eventually turned against it.In going back ' Along Civilization’s Trail” we find the refine-

ment of man s world and the refinement of self vying with each

other for suprem acy instead of keeping pace. A great military,

industrial and economic strength have often been eventually

acquired at the expense of the character of a peoole. W^herever

this has occurred, the trail has been eventually marked by the

ruins of another fa llen civilization. There will be seen a debris

of a people, as well as their monuments. In this book it is hoped

the reader will observe the historical evidences of the cause of

this rise and fall of character as well as nations.



s)

Chapter 1

W e w a t c h e d Iier turn slowly and steam majestically in the

direction of the French C oast and Havre. Stan ding on the

rolling lighter heing towed to the Plymouth docks, a tenminute

ride, we were suddenly conscious that we were now on our

ow n.” Fo r seven days we had traveled on the great ship, hut

it seemed for the first time that we had truly left America.

There had clung to the ship since we left New York a dis-

tinctly American spirit, an atmosphere that was quite like home.

W e were not alone in this feeling, apparently, for the joyous

exclamations with which our fellow passengers had greeted out

arrival at the Plymouth harhor had ceased. The y seemed con-

templating the severing of past ties and the assumption of new

ones. Fin ally , as one hody, the several hundred passengers,

crowded between stacks of baggage, turned and looked toward

the shore whi ch we were rapidly approaching. Here was E n g-

land, and cliffs that looked chalklike. They were not high, but

precipitous, and fringed with a green that was pleasing to the

eye after days of the blueblack of the Atlantic. Immediately

before us was a vshaped cleft in the abrupt face of the cliffs,

in which nestled the city of Plymouth, from which the famous

Pilgrims to Am erica had departed. Perhaps it was because it was a sudden relief from the monochrome of the sea that the

roofs of the homes that spread up the incline of the cleft ap-

peared so brilliantly red.

Wê were soon milling up the gangplank behind our porters

who were heavily laden with our personal luggage and special

equipment. A s we looked about, a thousand strange sights

caught our eyes. The things were different, but not necessarily

inferior to things of our own land which served the same pur-poses. 1 here was the waiting express that would take us to



London. The individual exterior door of each compartment,

and the side aisle of each car, made them different from our

enddoor, center aisle American cars; but there could be no

question of their equality to ours in many respects. Aga in,

we noticed in the railroad yard a congregation of freight cars

of various heights, widths, lengths, and types of wheels, toaccommodate different kinds of cargo; they were strange in

comparison to our nearly uniformly designed b o x «— and gon-

dola — cars, but this did not mean inefficiency or imply a lack

of modernity.Unfortunately, the Am erican has acquired the habit — per-

haps because of his geographical isolation — of thinking that

what he is accustomed to is the standard by which the rest of

the world should be measured; he fails to realize that other

peoples have needs in common with his own, and have de-

veloped systems for meeting those needs as satisfactory as his,

allhough different in manner of application. Am erica is asymbol of modernity to the American because there are no

monuments of the old order of things about him. Foreign

modernity does not appeal to him because he believes the New

A ge is exclusively an American development. This is mainly

due to the fact that the American s interest in Europe has been

aroused by stories of the quaintness of its past culture. Because

of the exploitation of customs and styles of from two to five

centuries ago, that are nearly as strange in Europe today asthey are in America, the American imagination becomes actu-

ally shocked by the reality of European nations displaying a

modernity equal to his own. He vagu ely knows it exists, but

prefers the picturesque conception of a Europe of the twelfth

century. Psychologically, such a conception gives him a feeling

of superiority which he tries courageously to cling to when

traveling abroad by purposely avoiding the new Europe whenever he can.

Ours was more than a tour; it was a serious venture and a

responsibility. W e were to represent the A M O R C at a con-



clave including the highest officers of the oldest arcane societies

of Europe. Momentous questions were to be discussed that

would shape the future course of these organizations. W e weresignally honored, for we were the only representatives of any

occult, mystical, or metaphysical society in North or South

America to be invited by virtue of our credentials to participate

in such a conclave. Hundreds of societies in Am erica claim

and have claimed worldwide connection of long lineage, but

none could produce the necessary authentic proof to receive

the coveted recognition.

I was to be tested, and, if found personally qualified, toreceive the honor of initiation in one of these esteemed brother-

hoods which traces its origin back into the centuries. The pros-

pect was thrilling, but there was always the sobering thought

of what might be demanded of me. I thought of the Imperator’s

first journey abroad, when he was given the authority to re-

establish tbe work and teachings of the Rosicrucian Order in

Am erica; an d I felt with pride that in minor capacity I was

following in his footsteps. How high his hopes must have beenl

How he must have felt that destiny was his guidel*

I must confess that our greatest trepidation was for the success

of the other purpose of our venture; we were to capture on film

the spirit which had moved men and women to found and carry

on the Rosicrucian Order and its teachings. W e were to lind

its early landmarks, the places which harbored its temples and

shrines, and the site of civilizations and cultures which addedtheir wisdom to the glory of its teachings. W e were to trace the

development in wood, stone, art, and religion, of the conscious-

ness of man which led to the conceptions we hold sacred today.

The search for light, for knowledge, and the mastery of life had

carried man westward through the centuries. W e were to pho-

tograph the milestones of his trek across continents. Mechan i-

cally, we were wellprepared for this phase of our venture; we

hacl a 35millimeter professionaltype Debrie motionpictureThis refers to tfie late linperutor, Dr. H. Spencer Lewis.



camera with extraheavy tripod, equipped for tilting and

panorama views. In addition to a complete assortment of light

filters, meters, reflectors, and other necessary accessories, we

had an array of fast lenses, including a sixinch telescopic lens

for enlarging distant objects. Realizin g that we needed an

excellent still camera to reproduce scenes which we hoped to

take for magazines and books published by A M O R C , w e took

along a Grap hlex . Not trusting to the possibility of being able

to secure the type of films we needed in foreign lands, we took

with us thousands of feet of supersensitive panchromatic filmfor the motionpicture camera, packed in hermetically sealed

cans to resist dust and thermal changes. O ur film supply also

included dozens of packs for the Grap hlex camera. O ur

equipment luggage numbered ten pieces, varying in weight from

fifteen to fifty pounds. Our total baggage was twentyone

pieces. Before we departed, Kendal Brower, fellow Rosicrucian,

Courier Car technician and member of the party, who wasfamiliar with photography and motionpicture equipment, had

spent weeks in becoming accustomed to the special eauipment

he was to use; but how di fferent his preparatory conditions were

to those he was actually to encounter!'*’

The gods of fortune smiled on us, for after only a slight delay

in the customs we were comfortably seated in a compartment of

the "boat train,’ rushing through pastoral lands to London. Our

party was not large; yet it was representative of the activities

of the A M O R C in San Jose. It included Frater Harry Shibley,

president of the Rosicrucian Press, Ltd., which separate corpora-

tion is responsible for the tremendous task of printing millions

of pieces of literature yearly to supply the Rosicrucian Order s

needs; Mrs. Shibley; Frater Kendal I. Brower, to whom I have

referred; and Mrs. Gladys Lewis, member of the Board of

Directors of the Supreme Grand Lodge. A s we fixed our eyes on the fleeting landscape, which was

bathed in the golden glow of a late summer day’s setting sun,

* Kendal Brower is now Cnrator of the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum.



we commented on the intensive cultivation. Everywhere were

fields of grain, patches of vegetables, pretty gardens, and

meadows. Tb^re were no barren wastes, bad lands, and saltbeds such as we had seen for hours in crossing western United

States. How fortunate that England could utilize so much of

her small island home! The shortage of native timber was

brought to our realization by numerous hedge fences instead of

rail or postandwire ones to which we are accustomed in

America. It seemed a combination of utility and artistic grace.

Rushing along now through the twilight, we looked out into

the gathering dusk at twinkling lights in the distance. I recalledbits of early English history; I thought of baronial halls, great

manors, intrigues against the crown, the threecornered contest

for supremacy, with crown, barons, and churchmen aligned

against each other. It was not difficult to understand the con-

tempt this great nation must have felt in its state of security,

with its centuriesold customs and wellordered society, for the

demands of a handful of colonists thousands of miles away in

the frontier country of Am erica. W h at Englishman, secure in

English society and comfortably bolstered by the home land’s

reassuring traditions, would have given an inch of England for

the future of the religionists and selfexiled subjects who made

up most of the population of the New W or ld in the eighteenth

century? Certainly the attitude must have been strongly ex-

pressed by the majority as, Let them have America.

Our first morning in London was sparkling in sunlight; Cali

forniaIike blue skies were given motion by an occasional lazily

floating white cloud. Fo r a moment, as we stood on the Strand

directly in front of the entrance to our hotel, we had a pang of

disappointment. I his was not the London that novelists portray

for the American imagination. W here w as the yellowish, smoke-

like fog through which, we were told, even in the day only the

yellow aura of the street lamps is visible a fog that gives all

passersby a wraithlike form? Reason then told me how fortu-

nate we were that such a condition did not prevail today, and



a i A L O N G C I V I L I Z A T I O N S T R A I L

how fortunate we would be if it did not exist during our stay in

England; for we were here to photograph.

Every large city throughout the world, it is said, has a

personality — certain characteristics; not physical form, but en-

vironment — which makes it distinctly different from every other

city, regardless of how similar they may be in skyline, industries,

customs, and general appearance. Every world traveler has felt

this and yet cannot definitely point his finger at the contributing

factor of a city s personality. It is undoubtedly, as it is in human

beings, the aggregate of unseen differences in character whichconstitutes the personality. A s a city has a personality, so, too,

does it have a soul. In every city there is some site, some edifice,

historical monument or structure, which symbolizes it whi ch

fairly breathes the spirit which it represents. Flash the Eiffel

Tower on the cinema screen and people do not merely know it

is of Paris; but it somehow fits into the niche of the subconscious

visualization they have of Paris. W e were now to visit the soul

of London, England.

A traditional high, boxlike London taxi, with its odd luggage

railing framing its top, stopped with screeching brakes before

us. The driver poked his head through the window in our direc-

tion and said. See the sights, sir? Somehow this knowledge

which natives of every country have in some peculiar fashion —

or that at least seems peculiar r—that you are a foreigner, and,

worse still, a tourist, is very deflating. One likes to imagine heis quite at home, in appearance at least, in every land. No

matter how carefully, in your own opinion, you mimic the dress

and mannerisms of the citizens, in some mysterious way they

see through the camouflage.

W^hile I held the cab, Brower, with the assistance of several

very curious porters, loaded the bulky cinema equipment into it.

Nowhere, except perhaps in California, is professional motionpicture paraphernalia taken casually; the farther one gets from

California, the more intense is the fascination for the devices that

make the fairyland of the silver screen possible. W e rode for



ten minutes along crowded thoroughfares, winding in and out

between London s famed, giant doubledecked omnibuses. W e

discussed the confusion we would personally experience if we were to drive on the left side of the road, as we were now being

driven, just opposite to the side on which American traffic

travels.

Suddenly we were riding along the Thames with its low, gray,

stone retaining wall. A moment later we stopped with a jerk

at our destination — W estm inster Bridge. Piling our equipment

in a confused mass against an abutment of the bridge, we turned

and gazed from our position of halfway across, straight ahead.

There they were — a compact unit: the Houses of Parliament,

W estminster Abbey, and Big Ben, the mammoth clock whose

chimes had resounded around the Empire. Th e slender turrets

which graced the sides ol the Houses of Parliament impressed

me as being like the delicate filigree wood carvings of some

Swiss antique; yet, with this finery, there was about them an

atmosphere of strength and solemnity.

Slowly, steadily, the 1 hames flowed by under our very feet.

Time, periods in English history, decades of strife and of pros-

perity had also moved by as unceasingly as this river; but there,

unchanged by it all, existed this soul of the British Empire.

From this dot in the world, millions of people at the far corners

of the earth were governed. N ew ideas, radical tendencies, un-

stable influences, were all tempered and steadied by its spell.

The spirit that was England’s dwelt within those gray walls.

Church and state, figuratively and literally, stood side by side.

Here was an example of the true value of tradition. N o one

can deny the progress of England or its place in the foremost

ranks of civilization today; its advance has been sensational in

many ways. Yet, when upsets came, as they did at times, it

slipped back no further than the traditions which were bred in

the bones of its sons and which constituted the last high level

to which it had climbed. Traditions which do not retard but



24 A L O N G C I V I L I Z A T I O N S T R A I L

which act as a bulwark against decadency in eras of wreakness,

are tbe safeguard of a people or of a nation.

Simultaneously we stopped our musing and proceeded to seek

tbe best position for a shot, cinematograpbically speaking, of

wbat we saw. O ur foremost thought was to reproduce on film,

if possible, enough of what we saw with our eyes to instil into

the minds of an audience the impressions we had received! But

therein lies the secret of the true art of photography. W h y, we

may be asked, were we filming the Houses of Parliament and

W estm inster Abbey, and what relation had they to Rosicrucian

landmarks and personalities of the past? In reply to this, we

need go no further than the eminent Sir Francis Bacon, past

Imperator of the Rosicrucian Order and also Lord Chancellor

of En gland in the seventeenth century. Philosopher and mystic,

he was also an important factor in England’s political life, offi-

ciating on many occasions in these same dignified edifices before

us. A s for Westminster Abbey, it is more than a church, a place

dedicated to worship, or even a monument; it is a pantheon.

Beneath its flooring lie England’s great. They are more than

England s ; they are the world s noble dead, for they made

contributions to humanity, to civilization s advancement. Among

them are those who were identified with past activities of the

Rosicrucian Order. W ,hat simpler respect could we pay them

than to film the place of their last rest to be viewed by theirbrethren of today?

They were a goodnatured crowd ^ these Londoners — as

they jostled one another to get a vantage position to watch

Brower grind out several hundred feet of costly film as we

recorded this soul of England. Big Ben was not to be forgotten;

through the telescopic lens we brought it to within a hundred

feet, visionally, of where we stood. Wê photographed the handsin the position of the quarter hour and half hour so that the

sound of the chimes could later be synchronized with their

position.



In a series of short, rapid trips about tke keart of London, we

took several views of prominent squares and circuses, at one time

mounting our equipment on tke great library steps and filmingtke noted, busy, noisy Trafalgar Square.

W e were to leave London next day for a hundredmile jour-

ney nortkward to Salisbury Plains. 1 he mysterious Stonehenge

was to be our destination. A s we expected, we had to first obtain

permission from His M ajesty s Department of Pub lic Wôrks

before being allowed to take professional cinema pictures there.

Stillcamera pictures were not ordinarily prohibited. A pre-

liminary investigation revealed that upon application by mail,after a tenday delay, we could expect a reply to our request.

Te n days! How disheartening! W ,e were scheduled to leave

En glan d before tkat. Must we fail at tke very beginning of

our journey? W 7hat could be done?

There is no maze like the entwined activities of government

departments. It may seem strange, but in endeavoring to locate

His Majesty’s Department of Public Works, bobbies, guards,

and attendants at public offices gave us conflicting directions.This condition is almost always experienced in conducting busi-

ness with departments of the leading governments of the world.

Each petty official or assistant is not made to familiarize himself

with the relationship of his department to any other, and usually

is in ignorance of the administrative structure. Th is condition

prevails in America as well. 1 his isolation of departments makes

it exceedingly difficult to locate the required official unless

you know exactly the title of the department to which he isattached. British officials are at all times courteous and respect-

ful, and unlike those of many other countries, are not unduly

impressed with the authority delegated to them. Presentation

of credentials showing that we represented a fraternity devoted

to the study of the sciences, and which maintained a free museum

of antiquities, and also disclosure of our connection as indi-

viduals with internationally known societies of research, ac-

corded us the needed exception to routine procedure. I he



Department of Public Works immediately issued a permit to

take cinema photographs in SalislDury and vicinity. 1 omorrow

we were actually to begin photographing rare antiquities for

the Order. W e were highly elated at this, our first success.

There is something so gratifying about a rural motor trip in

England. 1he low, rolling hills with occasional wooded strips,

all intersected with winding streams, are enchanting. Eve ry-

where were wild shrubs which seemed so perfectly trimmed and

artistically arrayed that it was as if man had undertaken a

gigantic landscaping project. However, it is not Nature whichlends England her greatest enchantment; it is the quaint villages

with which the countryside is dotted, with their centuryormore

old churches and slender steeples. The public squares which

once formed the hearts of these villages ore framed by sloping,

two~story structures with high peaked roofs, tall windows, and

superimposed balconies. I he limber ends which protrude from

their fronts, and the latticelike strips which form a design ontheir faces, blackened wilh age, contrast with the grayish white

of the stuccolike plaster with which they are sealed against the

weather. One sees, side by side, on the lower floor of these

structures, the crisscross leaded window of a bake shop with

all the appearances of Dickens time, and the modern large

plate glass front of a branch of England s popularpriced mer-

chandise chain store — a contemporary of our own Am erican

W oolworth s. How incongruous the modern automobile seems when parked belore tea rooms in buildings obvious ly of the

seventeenth and eighteenth centuries! M an y of these old dw el-

lings and buildings have long since ceased to serve any real

usefulness, although still occupied. 1 hey remain to mellow the

harshness of the New Age. and to remind one of the quiet ele-

gance that was once Old England s. Thoughts of a great wood

fire in an open hearth, planked floors and the wooden benchesof an old town tavern were engendered by a driving, cold rain

which caused us, although in summer, to pull our light top coats

about us as we drove rapidly along smooth, narrow highways.



Leav ing behind us the historical town of Salisbury’ in W il

shire, with its renowned cathedral, we headed out over the great

Salisbury Plains for Stonehenge. 1 hese were typical plains,much like those one sees in Western Canada and the United

States. The y indicated the plentitulness of England s rainfall,

for they were covered with a plush of vivid green. 1 here were

to be seen no villages or farms — even few fences.

"There it is!” our driver suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the

left. It was still quite distant. W e looked intently at what ap -

peared to be large, oblong, grayish objects standing on end and

leaning against each other at rather a sharp angle. Cand idly ,I was disappointed with my first view. Th is disappointment was

not shared by Brower.

“ Just as I visualized Stonehenge,” he declared.

A minute or two later we were outside the high wire enclosure

which surrounded it. one of Engla nd’s strangest untiquities, now

a government monument. Its setting was quite incongruous,

for a short distance away was a modern military7airdrome.

Our proximity had not changed my first impression. Thegiant, roughlyhewn monoliths stood upon a level plain sur-

rounded by grass, cropped as closely as that 0! a golf course.

There was no approach to them, no fallen stones or fragments

of an ancient structure to quicken one s imagination and draw

attention to the principal antiquity as the climax of some great

achievement of a forgotten race. I here was lacking that dra-

matic setting one expected from so mysterious a relic of the past.

In effect, it was as though these gigantic stones had been trans-ported from their natural surroundings and deposited here solely

lor exhibitional purposes.

W h at remains of Stonehenge is an inner semicircle of huge

stone blocks which were crudely shaped by hand by some un-

known race. Each of the foursided sandstone and bluestone

pillars penetrates the soil for a depth of about four and a half

Feet, and towers for a height of fifteen and a half feet, and

weighs approximately twentysix tons. Nine still stand, and



eleven are recumbent. Several of tbe massive monolitbs are

joined at tbe top by horizontal stones of like nature, forming

cross ties or beams. Tbe uprights have a conical tenon which

dovetails into a mortise at each end of the horizontal stone. Some

distance from this inner circle there is the remains of an earth-

work which formed the foundation of an enormous outer circle

of pillars. Naugh t but the bases of this once great outer circle

are now to be seen. A t the northeast of the inner circle, two of

the uprights with their cross beam compose a crude pylon.

Standing in the center of the pylon one looks out at a distanceof about 100 feet at a great slab of recumbent sarsen, one end

of which is partly buried, and which is known as the Slaughter

Stone. A n equal distance beyond, standing upright, is the

F I L M I N G S T O N E H E N G E

Kendal Brower, the expedition photographer, taking professional mo-tion pictures of tlie mysterious Stonehenge pillars on the Salisbury

Plains. England.(Photo hy AMORC)



Heel Stone. Tradition has it that when the rays of the rising

sun struck the Heel Stone and cast a shadow on the Slaughter

Stone, at that moment an animal (some say a human being) was offered to the Sun G od as a sacrifice. Large avenues of

stone columns, as roughly hewn as these monoliths, once

led to it.

Speculation is still rampant as to the origin and age of Stone-

henge. It has heen a battle ground for archeological theories.

One theory is that it was erected as a temple of worship by the

Romans during their occupancy of England two thousand years

ago. Th is is not logical for various reasons, primarily because

the workmanship lacks that mastery of masonry that wTas the

Ro m ans’ . A ga in it is said to have been built by the ancient

Druids as a place of worship, or as a sepulchre. This theory

also lacks authenticity and has little to support it, even in

imagination. Th e most acceptable explanation is that it was

built during the latter part of the Stone Age and at a time when

civilization was dawning in Egypt. It is presumed that the great

circle constitutes the hub, and the radiating spokes or colonnaded

avenues led to the primitive huts of the neolithic builders. Frag-

ments of pottery and reindeer picks of that age were found in the

debris of the ruin. It was quite evidently used as a place of

mystical ceremony. Elementary as it is structurally, it is not,

symbolically. The great outer circle, the inner circle, the massive

altar, the entrance to the East, the stones erected to block the

sun s rays and cast significant shadows at a specific time, reveala worship not necessarily of the sun but of Nature s phenomena.

Th e Slaughter Stone is named not by fact but merely by specula-

tion. M ay it not have marked the place of initiation into mys-

teries long since lost to man? Perhap s the shadow of the Heel

Stone fell upon the brow of some humble neophyte who knelt,

with head bared and arms crossed in supplication, facing the

mighty globe of power, illumination and lifegiving force which

gradually ascended from below the distant horizon. It was nocasual undertaking the building of Stonehenge. It represented



some tremendous expression of inner feeling — a people reach-

ing upward for something not quite comprehensible to them.

The task, with the very crude tools which they must have had

at their disposal, was enormous. It reveals that the place that

was to house the spirit of man s God alw ays excelled in splendor

and majesty the edifices he constructed solely for himself. Even

the nonreligious must admit this virtue of selflessness which

religion instils in the breast of man. It unites men to serve a

common ideal in a manner that private interests could not

inspire.

Brower took several G raphlex or still camera photographs of

this impressive place from different angles. Then he frantically

assembled his cinema equipment and maneuvered for a position

which would reveal, photographically, a picturesque view of a

portion of the strange structure, while casting his eye upward

at the menacing rain clouds. Just as he began to crank his

camera, down came the rain, and we scurried to shelter. B e -

tween showers, and after shifting the camera equipment to vari-ous positions in the center of the great circle and beyond it, he

succeeded in obtaining several hundred feet of worth while

scenes, which, when viewed weeks later, we considered com-

pensation for the effort in obtaining them.

It was several days later and we were resting in our hotel

after arduous photographic labors in London and environs. The

room telephone rang. I answered it, and was informed that my

visitors had arrived and were waiting for me in the lounge below.

I mused, as I descended in the elevator, that only a few days

before we had looked with the keenest of anticipation toward

the filming of Stonehenge and had thought of little else; and

now all that was past and we were on the eve of our departure

from En gland. Only one more act of importance required my

attention; that was to confer again, after several years, with our

good Frater Raym und An drea Rosicrucian Grand Master of the English jurisdiction, and author of several popular Rosicru-

cian works^—and his London associates. They awaited me now.



I stepped into the spacious reception room, and they arose to

greet me. One cannot help being impressed by Frater Andrea.

Physically he is not large, but yet one is not conscious of hisstature. His eyes hold ones attention; they are keen, pene-

trating, and in a quick glance he seems to probe completely the

depths of your feelings and appraise you. A s piercing as they

are, there is dancing in them the light of merriment and kindli-

ness. Soft spoken, he speaks only to convey a worthy thought,

preferring to listen and weigh words. His quiet manner wins

confidence by the friendliness that radiates. One is impressed

with the thought, Here is a modern mystic.’ He wears nostrange costume and has no peculiar habits, and neither does

he resort to odd conduct. Dressed in a conservative business

suit, moving about in a twentiethcentury world, he is able to

accomplish in a modern way among presentday peoples the

things we think of as having been possible only among the robe

garbed mystics of the Middle Ages. However, strange rites and

queer methods of living, we know, do not make the mystic; such

things are practiced for the credulous who have a fantastic con-ception of the mystic as a weird being, dropped from a place

far above the earth, to descend among mortals and by some

magical process elevate their consciousness.

The other Fratres — one an active and the other a past officer

of the London Rosicrucian lodge <— could have, in appearance,

passed anywhere in either America or England as professional

or prominent business men, as they were, in fact, in private life.

Only by engaging them in conversation would a stranger realize

by their remarks that they had a far deeper philosophical con-

ception of life than that held by the average professional or

business man.

This meeting was truly a handsacrossthesea. It made me

realize and feel proud of the extent of the Rosicrucian order,

A M O R C , and its influence. Here, thousands of miles distant

from San Jose, California, I was received as a friend and a

brother, because 1 was a follower of the Rose and Cross. N a -



tionality and religious differences, if any, melted away into a

great, common understanding. It was beneficial to us all to

discuss tbe hopes and ideals of our respective jurisdictions whichembraced continents and nations as well as millions of souls,

many of whom were already traveling the path of light with us.

1 he early morning hours were beginning to crowd the ni ght

before we bade farewell and parted.

It was only a matter of hours when we were once again on

shipboard; this time we were standing on the crowded deck of

a small channel steamer, plowing her way from Dover, England,

to Ostend, Belgium. Th e Chann el, at one time a safeguard toEngland, and an assurance against surprise attacks from a hos-

tile power on the Continent as long as England flung a cordon

of menofwar about her island home, no longer conveys that

reassuring feeling of isolation. In less than an hour there can

roar over London, from European capitals, a mighty air fleet

of destruction, screened by fog, which could blast out — so Eng-

lish air authorities advise — the nerve centers of Englan d. The

Channel itself is but a ten or twelveminute crossing by air, andtherefore is neither a means of defense to England nor a barrier

to a hostile air fleet. It is of little importance in this age. Th e

nationalistic fences of a century ago are toppling. 1 rade and

industry, communication and transportation, are uniting the

powers of the world. The nations must either become a common-

wealth of humanity, or be destroyed by their own avarice, for

there is no wall they can build about themselves that can resist

the ingenuity of this scientific age, if that ingenuity is to be used

as an instrument of destruction.

The coast of Belgium framed the whitecapped waves on the

horizon, and we knew that we were soon to land. W e were to

have, in this small, once blooddrenched country, experiences

which, though we did not now realize it, were to be unforgettable

and the beginning of strange yet illuminating mystic adventures.



Chapter H

O U R M Y S T I C A L I N I T I A T I O N S

W i t h sighs of relief we sank back against the cushions of

our seats, attempting to make ourselves as comfortable in the

overcrowded compartment as possible. After a delay which

nearly caused us to miss the special Brussels Express we had

finally located our missing baggage on the dock and with littleopportunity for proper arrangement were obliged to pile it about

our feet and in the racks over our heads just as the train, after

a series of convulsive jerks, pulled slowly out of the domed sheds.

A sudden startling clatter of the door, and there stood on the

threshold the attendant or, as we term him in America, the

conductor. His expression was quite apparently one of dis-

pleasure. He glanced at the baggage and at us, and said noth-

ing. His silence and looks combined were more abusive, I am

sure, than any remarks he might have made at the moment. He

was, we were certain, not approving of this excess baggage in

a passenger compartment. W e were not left in doubt long as

to his annoyance. In a loud voice, mingling French with Eng-

lish, and gesticulating freely, he informed us of our wrongdoing,

but permitted us to keep our delicate equipment in the compart-

ment. W e were well pleased that we did not have to subjectit to the rough handling of the baggage attendants.

The weather wa s delightfully warm. I he late summer sun

seemed to have given the fleeting fields and pastures a mellow

appearance as though we were looking at them through an

amber glass. Th e countryside was level and but a few feet

above the sea. Artistic, rustic thatchedroof barns and houses

flashed by. Patient and plodding oxen pulled crude two- wheeled carts laden with hay. Picturesquely dressed peasants

with wide baggy trousers walked slowly alongside with one

hand resting on the rack of the cart and the other holding a



woodenpronged fork which seemed to lie heavily on their

shoulders. Frater Shib ley remarked that it was an animated

painting, like a masterpiece from some famous gallery suddenly become a reality.

A series of sharp, highpitched blasts of the engine whistle

informed us we were approaching a station, and a few seconds

later we heard and felt the grinding of brakes as we pulled up

to a small red brick depot with a stone flagging platform. Sm al l-

town train watchers and station hangerson do not differ much

throughout the world. They are brothers under the skin regard-

less of their difference in costume and nationality. A numberof them seated on cases and crates were leaning languorously

against the wall, wearing widebrimmed hats pulled low in front

to shade their eyes. They formed a soporific picture. Rosyfaced

children, with wellpatched clothes, went through a pantomime

act attempting to interest passengers in their wares. The passen-

gers, behind closed windows, did not respond.

W e heard it coming — the distant faint tweet of the whistle

of the guard of the last car, followed by louder and shriller

tweets of the whistles of the guards of the successive cars, until

finally the engineer, who must have been counting each whistle

corresponding to the cars of the train, acknowledged them with

a shrieking blast from the engine. Wê were off again. To get

a train underway was indeed a ceremony. Frater Brow er re-

marked that the delay in starting a train in Belgium must cer-

tainly be a boon to late commuters.

It was dark when we finally roared to a stop in the great

metropolis of Brussels, a city having a population of more than

seven hundred thousand. W e were pleased to learn that our

hotel was a few steps from the railroad station; in fact, located

on the same great cobblestone square which the station itself

faced. Severa l times before large parties of Rosicrucians from

America and various sections of Europe had gathered at this

hotel while attending important conclaves in Brussels. Th e Rosi-

crucians were well known to the management as an orderly.



congenial group of guests and his hospitality was accordingly

responsive. Our party had adjoining suites, ones that had been

occupied by the Imperator’s party but two years previously.*

I was late for an important engagement, how important I did

not fully realize. I called Mademoiselle Guesdon on the tele-

phone. Sh e was residing at the same hotel, having come from

Paris for the same conclave and to kindly act as my official

interpreter. She excitedly asked that my wife and myself meet

her in the main lobby at once. 1o meet Mademoiselle Guesdon,

Grand Secretary of the A M O R C in France, is to know anexceedingly intelligent and highly efficient woman with much

administrative experience. W ith all of her firmness and ability

to accomplish what seems the impossible at limes, she is refined,

kindly, and most considerate. Years of intimate association with

the commercial world in an executive capacity have not lessened

her mystic insight and her philosophic trend of mind. She has

performed innumerable services for the A M O R C of America

and its Supreme Officers.

Speaking in perfect English and in a hushed voice, she told

us that Hieronymus, the Rosicrucian Imperator of Europe, could

only attend that night s secret conclave of the F I D O S I, the

great federation of the arcane mystic Orders of the world. He

must leave early the next day for another city in Belgium. In

fact, he had been in conference for a day before we arrived and

had waited and was now waiting for us. W e felt grievedthat we had been a cause of delay, but Mademoiselle Guesdon

hastened to assure us that our schedule had been proper, but

that sudden unexpected affairs made it necessary for Hierony-

mus to depart sooner than he had anticipated.

Since we must leave at once, there was not time for prepara-

tion. M y wife and I hastily informed the other members of our

party where we were going and then hurriedly joined Made-moiselle Guesdon at the street curb. W e frantically signalled

* A party consisting of Dr. H . Spencer Lewis, late Imperator. and certain other IiigJi officialsof the Rosicrucian Order of America.



a taxi, and in my excitement I called to the driver in English,

whi cH am used tke early evening sidewalk cafe patrons. To

them we were running true to form, like all Americans, in a

constant rush. W e feel that the speed with which we travel

through life is the cause of our accomplishments, and that these

accomplishments are the worthy ends of life. O ur Belgian

friends shrug their shoulders and admit that Americans accom-

plish stupendous things, but are these things the true end of

life? is their query. Do they bring the American any greater

happiness and contentment than the quiet enjoyment of every hour of living which the Belgian ordinarily experiences?

Speaking rapidly in French to our rotund chauffeur who looked

none too comfortable crammed into the very limited space be-

tween the wheel and the hard, upright seat back, Mademoiselle

Guesdon gave directions for reaching our destination.

Concerning exactly where we were going, and what was to

occur, I was still very much in the dark. I ventured to quiz

Mademoiselle Guesdon and finding her noncommittal on this

point dropped the matter. This attitude only quickened my

imagination and further stimulated my enthusiasm. No further

words were spoken. W e , my wife and myself, sat in suspense,

each keeping to his or her own thoughts. W e drove across great

plazas walled in by massive stone buildings having medieval

looking turrets and high iron gates. W alk in g rhythmically be-

fore them were uniformed sentinels carrying regulation rifles with bayonets fixed. I could only conjecture that they were

guarding public buildings. The dignified solemnity of these

settings was broken by the clanging bells of high, narrow, but

short length electric trams which rocked from side to side as

they clattered along.

Suddenly Madem oiselle Guesdon tapped lou dly on the gl ass

partition separating us from the driver. Bringing his cab to a

stop, he inquired in French as to her desires. Afte r much hand

waving on the chauffeur s part he was finally convinced by

Mademoiselle Guesdon that he was not taking us in the right



direction, and he turned to travel in a direction irom which it

seemed to me we had just come. I did not know what to look

for, but I was surprised when our cab stopped in a semiresiden-tial shopping district. I hesitated before leaving the cab. Do

we get out here? I inquired. Yes, Madem oiselle Guesdon

replied, smiling at my bewilderment.

W e walked rapidly about a block, passing many attractive

little shops. Mademoiselle Guesdon stopped in front of one, and

looked in the doorway. I walked closer and looked into the large

plate glass window front. 1 here were platters of cakes and

large green bowls of deliciousIooking salads. I looked at thelarge block letters painted on the glass above me. The establish-

ment was a restaurant catering to those who preferred vegetarian

and fruit dishes. " But why are we stopping here? I wondered.

I turned, and looked in the direction of Mademoiselle Guesdon.

Sh e beckoned to us to enter. Th is is strange,” 1 thought. She

had been anxious to reach our destination — was in a hurry, in

fact — and now we were dining before proceeding. Sh e ap-

parently realized my confusion and enlightened me. “ W e are

here, she said. “ The conclave — I began, and she motioned

for me not to speak for a genial hostess with a voluminous

colored apron was approaching us. The hostess was about to

accept us as patrons, usher us to a table in the large room in

which there were several tables already occupied by diners. but

Mademoiselle Guesdon stepped up to her quickly, and in a

manner that attracted no attention, spoke to her in a whisper

which I could not overhear. I he wom an turned, looked at us

intently for a moment, and then nodded her head in the direction

of a small door at the opposite end of the room. W e followed

her in single hie toward it. Upon reaching the door she bowed,

turned, and left us. Madem oiselle Guesdon , turning to us, said:

Wâit here, please ; I shall return shortly. 1 he patrons, eating

in the leisurely manner which is the custom of the country, paid

us no attention, for which we were grateful, for our faces must

have revealed our pentup emotions.



It seemed an age, but in reality the passing of time must have

been but three minutes before Mademoiselle Guesdon returned.

You shall follow me, ’ she said solemnly. W e did. W e entereda short dark hallway. A s I recall, it had a turn in it, because

I could not see the other end until suddenly I was standing in

an oblong chamber. 1 he room was about thirtyfive feet in

length and about eighteen feet wide. It had, if memory serves

me well, a plank floor and a lowhanging plastered ceiling. It

was lit by candles located at the far end of the room. Shadows

danced about us on the wall with each flicker of the candle

flames, add ing to the enigmatic atmosphere of the occasion. Our

eyes were rooted to the scenes which the candles illuminated.

There was a long but narrow U shaped table wi th the open end

toward us. The table in reality consisted of a series of small

tables placed together and covered with a crisp and brilliant

white (in contrast to the yellow candlelight) table cloths.

Around the outer side sat a group of impressive looking men.

None was eating, although they obviously had been. Th ey

looked straight at us. Th eir faces were expressionless but not

cold and steely. W e felt, standing there in the part shadow s,

as though we were apparitions being looked upon by a solemn

committee of investigators into psychic phenomena. I stepped

forward and then stood hesitating. A s though this had been

a given signal, the gentlemen all arose at once, stood erect,

motionless, waiting. W aiting for what. I did not know.

Again Madem oiselle Guesdon came to our aid. In a low

voice she said, Permit me to introduce you. I was fascinated

by one personage. He stood behind the closed end of the U

shaped table in the exact center. His position was directly in

front of me. I had tried turning my eyes from him. I did not

wish to stare discourteously, and yet, as if magnetically drawn,

I would become conscious that I had turned again to hold his

eyes. He would have attracted attention anyw here. He wa s tall,

stately, wellgroomed, conservatively attired. He had a neatly

trimmed white beard which gave him an air of distinction with-



out being conspicuous. His complexion for a man of his age —

and he must have been sixty years — was startlingly youthful,

a healthful pink. I could not detect the color of his eyes from

where I stood. They were to me two radiant, scintillating gems;

points of light would perhaps better describe them.

Slowly Mademoiselle Guesdon led us down the center aisle

formed by the opening of the U , directly toward him. W hen

but three feet from him she stopped. Slowly, and in a quiet

tone of voice, Mademoiselle Guesdon spoke to him in French.

Sh e was introducing me; then he spoke. I do not recall his words; in fact, I did not, as I now recollect, remember hearing

words at all but it seemed as if I were hearing a voice calling

from a great distance, indistinct but melodious, soothing, some-

what like a chant. I seemed to understand inward ly what was

being said, rather than objectively perceiving it. He was extend-

ing greetings, then he smiled and put forth his hand in welcome.

A s he smiled, his whole face lit up with a beautiful glow. Irealized then what the master painters sought to capture on

canvas when they wished to have their subjects saints, mys-

tics, and great philoso ph ers of old •— appear to radiate the eso-

teric light which had dwelt within them. It is something which

the chemical elements of paint and pigments can never portray.

In fact, it is more sensed than seen.

This man before me was the Imperator ol Europe, known

only by his symbolic name, Hieronymus. He was one of the

three Rosicrucian Imperators of the world, of which Dr. H.

Spencer Lewis of our jurisdiction is one.* I was not awed by

the occasion, but rather a great wave of humility swept over me.

I felt a keen sense of devotion to the Order which it is my

privilege and honor to serve. There flashed in my mind a vivid

picture of my obligations and duties, and the thought of the

many who had gone before me and had made possible what we hold so sacred today.

* This occurred three years before the higher initiation and transition of Dr. H. Spcncer Lewis.



W e were now led to our places at this table; then each of

the gentlemen filed by us and was introduced to us in turn. W e

played with our food, hungry as we were and delicious as it was.Somehow we thought that giving time to eating on such an

auspicious occasion would be nothing short of prolane, though

it would have been in proper order. A few moments later, all

arose at the sound ol the gavel, and quietly retired irom the

room. 1 was about to leave when a young man of about thirty

three or thirtyfour years ol age. slender, wiry, with high fore-

head and the lacial characteristics o( one who is distinctly a

student and devoted to a mental life, came forward and said inEngl ish, Kindly wait with Mademoiselle Guesdon. You shall

be admitted later. 1felt a strong liking lor this I’ rater. He was

personable and understanding. He was our noted Frater

Mallinger. prominent in the legal profession of his country and a

moving spirit in the administrative affairs of F U D O S 1. 1 had

corresponded with him on numerous occasions relative to official

matters of our Order. In fact, I had with me at this time secret

and confidential documents to deliver to him. He was exactly as I had visualized him — a human dynamo of energy and ac-

complishment. He left us and joined the others.

Once again we were alone — Mademoiselle Guesdon, Mrs.

Lewis and myself. I turned to Soror Gu esd on questioningly.

Betore I could speak she anticipated my thoughts. ' You are

about (referring to Mrs. Lewis and me) to be inducted into the

thirteenth traditional historical degree of our Order. (Referring

to A M O R C .) "O nly a few members of every jurisdiction areeligible to receive its honors, secrets and wisdom. W e were

more than elated and grateful. A few moments later a Prater

came through the portal which led to the chamber into which

all the others had retired. He spoke hurriedly in French to our

interpreter and guide, and returned. Once again Soror Guesdon

bade us follow her, which we did. 1 his became an unforgettable

evening in our lives. W e crossed the threshold and dwelt within

for nearly an hour, though we were not conscious of time. W^hat



transpired there must be sealed in my heart and mind. I can

only impart my experiences to those who are prepared to receive

them, and like me, they will never know when they will be con-

sidered prepared until the invitation has been extended to them

to receive this knowledge at a proper time and at a proper place.

M y next day w as an exceptionally busy one; no time for si ght

seeing, no tours or ramblings. 1 here w as too much to be ac-

complished. B y appointment 1met Frater Mallinger at his office,

to which Mademoiselle Guesdo n look me. There important

documents concerning the we lfare and extension of A M O R C ,the Rosicrucian Order in America, were signed and sealed.

Official communications from the Imperator of A M O R C in

America were personally delivered to Frater M allin ger for con-

sideration by the F U D O S I officers. 1 he mutual plans and

problems of the Rosicrucian Order of the North and South

American jurisdiction and the Order of Furope were discussed,

and constructive ideas exchanged. For the first time 1heard the

phrase. And it shall be the duty of America to preserve thisfor future generations.’ I thought it strange but passed it by

without question.

Later, Mrs. Lewis. Soror Guesdon and I were luncheon guests

of Fra ter and Soror Mallinger at their home. A delicious repast

was enjoyed in most pleasant surroundings, Soror M allinger

being an excellent hostess. Immediately following luncheon,

Frater Mallinger, Mademoiselle Guesdon and I attended the

meeting of a special F U D O S I Convention Committee somedistance from the former s home, for a further consideration of

organization matters of importance.

Several days had elapsed since our arrival in Brussels, but

this night was to be an eventful one in this very eventful city.

Mrs. Lewis, Frater Brower and myself were to be inducted into

the Order of the M one of the oldest arcane Orders of

Europe. Fo r centuries it had been a contemporary of the Rosi-

crucian Order, a body of preliminary training and preparation

for the higher degree studies ol the Rosicrucian Order, per-



petuating many noble traditions and ideals. It bad numbered

among its membership many learned men throughout Europe whose names are milestones in history. Frater Brower, who

had never been abroad before, and had not previously had the

pleasure and privilege of meeting the dignitaries of these august

Orders of Light, was in a high state of expectation and en-

thusiasm. Fo r him the hours of the day slowly waned as he

waited for the evening, when we were to go to our place of

initiation. W e had been advised to dress semiformally for the

occasion, and we were dressed considerably in advance and

waiting with undue impatience in the foyer of our hotel for

Mademoiselle Guesdon, who, as usual, was most punctual.

It was dark and rainy when we left in a chugging taxi for our

destination. The streets, for so large a city, were quite deserted.

1 be evening was one that induced a melancholy mood. Reflec-

tions of the oddshaped street lamps cast grotesque patterns of

light on the slippery pavements. N o one spoke. Each treasuredsilence. To me it was an intriguing adventure. Some of the

streets through which we passed were so narrow that the

shadows of the houses on either side intensified the darkness

so that we seemed to be riding through deep canyons. The

streets twisted to such an extent that neither end could be visible,

which added to the realism of the impression.

I could not help but think of the sagas of the neophytes of

our beloved Order who, in the Middle Ages, seeking light as

we, crept from their homes in the dead of night — such a ni ght

as this — and pulling closely over their heads the cowls of their

cloaks so as to partly conceal their faces, flitted along in the

shadows like things of another world, seeking others who would,

in the deep shadows of the eaves of some home, meet them.

Together they would secretly enter and surreptitiously conduct

a conclave of our Order, fearing any moment to hear the crashof the door and find in their midst officers of church and state

who would arrest them for daring to go beyond, in their studies

and thoughts, the prescribed confines of the ecclesiastical and



state laws of what should constitute knowledge. Though I was

to experience no such danger, 1 thrilled with the thought of the

danger they experienced to gain what we, of the jurisdiction of North and South America and the allied jurisdictions, enjoy so

freely and sometimes unappreciatively.

After a ride of about ten minutes we came to an abrupt stop

on a slight hill. Stepping from the taxi so as to avoid pools of

muddy water, we stood on the sidewalk in front of a brown

stone building that resembled the mental picture one gains from

the descriptions of homes in French novels, architecture of the

sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It was quaint, intriguing—the sharp pointed roof, the garret windows, the wellworn steps

leading to the main entrance, and the small doorway at the

left, below, with its heavy wooden door and small grated

windows.

Presuming that this was the place we were to enter, because

it seemed to have an atmosphere of mystery and secrecy, I started

in advance of the others to walk up the steps toward the large

doors which were closed, and through small glasses in the upperportion of which was shining a faint light. Mademoiselle G ues -

don called out to me to return. I said, upon reaching her, Is

not this the plac e?” "Y es,” she said, "but not the entrance.

Sh e turned, and we followed her. Sh e approached the small

door at the left. In fact, to reach this door we had to go down

two or three steps. To me it had seemed like a servants or

delivery entrance. W e stood behind her, our coats drawn about

us tightly. It was still raining, and miserably uncomfortable.

Not a soul was to be seen on the street. It was exceptionally

dark because there was only a faint street lamp on either end

of the long block. Sh e knocked three times. I recalled the sym-

bolic knock in one of our own rituals.

W e waited what seemed to me a great length of time. No

one spoke. Sh e made no further effort to knock. Final ly I heard

a bolt being drawn in the door, and the door must have been

heavy and not used frequently for it opened slowly as though the



44 A L O N G C I V I L I Z A T I O N S T R A I L

one who was opening it found it an effort to do so. It creaked.

W e looked in. 1 here was a hallway, a short one, well illumi-

nated by an odd electric fixture hanging on the high ceiling,casting a peculiar pattern on the floor. To the right of the

entrance in front of which we stood was a stairway that led

upw ard, only one flight of it being visible. The ha llway was

inviting. It radiated a spirit of friendliness, warmth, light, cheer-

fulness. Immediately before us stood a Frater, tall, well propor-

tioned, and wearing a flowing white gown, and a black mask

which concealed all of his face but just a slight portion of his

forehead and his mouth and chin. He said but one word —' Enter. W e did. Wê filed in and lined ourselves against the

wall of the hallway. He closed the door, bolted it, spoke nothing

further, turned at ri ght angles, walked slowly up the long stair-

way, we following him with our eyes as he did so. Again silence

reigned and no one made the effort to speak. Speaking seemed

to be out of order. N o one seemed to want to shatter his im-

pressions with words.

In a few moments this Frater returned, and smiling, andspeaking in English, asked us to please follow. Madem oiselle

Guesdon led. 1 he robed Frater took up the rear. W e climbed

the flight of stairs to another passageway identical with the

one below, except that in this hallway were two doors. W e

waited outside one. 1 he robed Frater opened it just enough to

pass into the chamber, but we could not see in and knew not

what to expect. He returned a few moments later and had in

his hand three large white silk handkerchiefs. Wê were askedto remove our coats and hats and then each of us was blind-

folded, and each of us was led through the open doorway into

the chamber of initiation.

Gently we were taken by the arm and led a few steps for-

ward and then turned at ri ght angles and caused to move for-

ward in another direction. This was repeated several times in

the direction of each point of the compass. It was not a capri-

cious act, nor was it intended to confuse us. It was, I knew from



my experience with ritualism, part of some solemn ceremony. I

had by now lost my orientation. The stillness, tbe quiet, was

intense; it bad tbe feeling of heaviness; it seemed to be pressingin upon me. I felt as though eyes I could not see, how many I

did not know, were not merely looking upon my form or my

partially concealed face, but were searching my soul. M y heart

thumped and a flush of warmth came over me. So carefully

had I been blindfolded that even no light penetrated to my

sight. I felt not as one whose vision was temporarily obscured,

but rather like a person groping in the dark of night, in a wild,

unknown terrain, not knowing but half sensing that perhaps a

precipice lay just ahead, over which one could plunge into

oblivion. Strangely I had no tear, my emotion was one of excite-

ment instead, that anticipation of some great revelation that

would thrill and amaze me. I heard a voice; I knew it was close

to me, yet it had that faintness of distance. It was not in a tongue

that I at first recognized; in fact, I was not attempting to under-

stand it. Its melodious tone enthralled me; it was that to which

I was listening. It was unmistakably a man s voice, yet there

was something not mortal about it. Perhaps I was overwrought;

perhaps again my imagination dominated my reason, yet as I

look back upon the experience now, calm, collected, I can not

help but feel the same about it today. I was being told and

asked something. Certainly they must have known that I could

not understand the tongue or what was being said. Suddenly

I was startled — I amazed myself — I did know! I did not actu-ally comprehend words, but the inflections, the rise and fall of

the voice, the reaction of my solar plexus to the vibrations of

their intonations engendered within me sensations which caused

me to have a consciousness of their import, as thoroughly as if

I had understood the language. 1 he voice stopped as suddenly

as it had begun. I was now breathing heavily with intense

excitement. The sound of my own breath disturbed me for it

was disturbing the peculiar state of tranquility existing in theroom, of which I was so conscious. To my surprise I quickly



regained my composure. Then I had a sensation of numbness

come over me like that one experiences wbo is slowly being

frozen. I felt drowsy. It became an effort for me to concentrate,I so wanted to relinquish consciousness, to sort of slip olf into

an effortless state, into comfortable oblivion. Something, how -

ever, kept me from doing that. W h at it was I cannot recall —

something within me perhaps. There flashed into my mind the

command to answer. They were waiting and I must answer the

charge given me, the questions asked of me. I was, however,

powerless to speak; I could not even move my tongue — it was

an inopportune time to be inarticulate. 1 he answers, asthoughts, welled up within my consciousness. It seemed as

though the very words themselves which 1 was mentally framing

choked me. A titanic struggle was going on within me, yet I

was aware that outwardly I remained motionless and perhaps

gave no indication of this conflict. Then a voice spoke in En g-

lish; it was a woman’s. She said: “ You have answered aright.

It did not occur odd to me then that they were aware of my

answer, which was unspoken, and which had become nothingmore than an intense thought within me. I felt bands tugging at

my blindfold. A few seconds later I looked out upon my sur-

roundings.

In point of time, only a short period had elapsed since we had

entered the chamber and finally left these quarters on the

Rue . . . . , but in that interval and after the removal of our

blinds we had such experiences as made it seem that we had

lived for centuries and travelled to other worlds. And this con-

cluded my first initiation in the Order of the M I was to

have still others.

The next night was to be our last one in Brussels. It was to

be one of merriment, sociability, brotherhood. During the next

day Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Shibley were free to visit some of the

excellent shops in Brussels, noted for their fine laces and needle-

work. They had to return early, however, to prepare for the



official F U D O S I banquet, a banquet which concludes all these

official sessions.

A t 7:0 0 P. M. on that evening. Madem oiselle Guesdon again

acted as our guide. Our party, however, was increased in num-

ber this time. W e drove along one of the main boulevards in

Brussels, well illuminated with sparkling, scintillating electric

signs as modem as any we find in Am erica. Alon g this boule-

vard there prevailed the typical continental atmosphere. There

were blocks dotted with little sidew alk cafes, little tables over

which there were aw nings, and about which people sat sipping

wines, drinking coffee, and watching humanity file by.

W e eventually came to our destination, a wellilluminated

and fashion ableappearing restaurant — a large place. W e

entered, and the maitre d hotel escorted our party to the second

floor where, in a large dining hall, the convention tables were

spread. Th ere were hosts of representatives of the various occult,

mystical, and arcane Orders of Europe and the world gathered

there. Som e were in full dress, wearing their emblems of office,and some wore their ritualistic capes. Am ong tbose present was

the eminent Grand Master of the Order of M into which

1 had just been inducted — a man of prominence in his own

country, an outstanding figure in the political world. More about

him will come later. I was introduced to a kindly old soul, well

over eighty years of age. Grand Master of the hermetic brother-

hood, a master of occult lore. H e spoke English, and I spent

a very pleasant halfhour discussing the work of the A M O R C

in North and South America with him.

There were also many others there who were distinguished

personages. I had the pleasure of meeting our good Frater

Greuter of Southern France, who holds a prominent A M O R C

office in that country, and who is also active in the work of the

F U D O S I. A delightful banquet was served. There was enter-

tainment, and there were speeches in various languages. I hadthe pleasure of addressing this congregation, and Mademoiselle



Guesdon interpreted my address to those present who could

not understand English.

W e returned to our hotel in the early hours of the morning

feeling that we had concluded a very successful stay in Brussels,

and had had an experience that made life worth living. La te as

was the hour, or rather I should say, as early in the morning as

it was, we were obliged to pack and prepare for an early morning

journey to France — to Paris.



Chapter III

A C IT Y O F S T R A N G E C O N T R A S T S

I MER E is a charm about Paris that is part imaginary and part

actual. M an y Americans think of Paris as synonymous with

Europe, and their first trip abroad is centered in and about Paris.

Actually, however, Paris differs only slightly from many of the

other great cities of Europe. O f course, its customs, language,and historical background are different, but in reality there is

little more of interest to the traveler or even to the tourist than

one vvou Id find in London, Berlin, or Rome for example.

France, it is said, is a nation that desires to live in the past,

in the glory of past achievements and accomplishments, the

romantic settings of previous centuries, to dwell upon her great

personalities of yore, and thus she turns reluctantly to the pres-

ent, and to the future. It has also been said that the averageFrenchman devotes himself to (he things of the day and to

modem affairs by necessity, but prefers living in the memories

and glory of the France of the past. And since France has been

a battleground for centuries, and a prize which various powers of

Europe at different times sought, the French people are instinc-

tively on their guard, and one gathers the impression that many

of them are suspicious. They are constantly, it seems, on the

alert for those who would take advantage of them. This sus-

picion affronts many visitors, though the effrontery is uninten-

tional on the part of the Frenchman.

This suspicion is manifest in national affairs. It casts a burden

on her industry, finance, and full cooperation with other powers.

Time after time France has been trampled upon, her national

honor insulted, her people enslaved, her institutions destroyed

by the greed and avarice of hostile powers, and each member of

a family has taken an unexpressed oath that it shall never

happen again, and this obligation colors their views. France



is, therefore, a militaristic nation, not because of a desire to

conquer or even to expand herself, but for selfdefense alone.

She feels that if she can command the greatest air force and oneof the best equipped and manned armies in Europe, as well as

having the most extensive fortifications, she will be safe from

the crushing blow which she feels other powers are waiting

to give her to further their own ends. The people as a whole

are extremely emotional, but this emotionalism is not evidenced

except in emergencies, in crises. There are other peoples of

Europe as emotional and they display their emotion more fre-

quently in the commonplace affairs of the day. The averageFrenchman is quiet, peace loving, even tempered, except when

extraordinarily provoked. Then the emotions. like pentup furies,

break loose, and perforce they sweep away the usual very logical

reasoning of the people.

The impression the visitor gets is that Paris is a city of two

classes only: those who are we althy — or at least have a very

substantial income and are able to enjoy the better and finer

things of life, the luxuries — and a great multitude who arestruggling along, barely able to provide the necessities of life.

There does not seem to be that dominant class which we, in

America, say is the great middle class, or the bourgeoisie. That

is particularly noticeable in the material aspects of the city. On

the great boulevards we find every evidence of wealth and pros-

perity, large buildings with marble and tile fronts and chromium

plating, modernistic lighting effects and decorations, broad

streets and sidewalks, shops displaying articles of every con-ceivable kind, exquisite jewelry, clothes — both men’s and

women s — of the latest fashion, rare perfumes, gems, restau-

rants and cafes whose cuisine caters to the epicurean. The pas-

sersby are well dressed, alert, cultured, refined; but if one steps

off the boulevard, in many of the side streets he finds squalor,

dust and dirt, congestion, old buildings with old plumbing and

light fixtures, crowds, suggestions of poverty or at least want.

There is not the same sparkle of life, and hope, in the faces one



sees. There is more of an indication of drudgery and life without

the light of culture. O f course, there are many sections of Paris

which have beautiful apartment houses, and private homes, butthese again represent the opposite class, the other extreme. I here

is, apparently, no intermediate class, or at least a dearth of it.

One is also impressed by the comparatively few Frenchmen

that speak English, or in fact any other language than French.

This is noticeable in contrast to London, Berlin and Rome, for

the people of those cities almost all speak another language in

addition to their own. It is not that Frenchmen cannot be lin-guists, because many of them speak several languages, but the

Frenchman has an exceptional pride in his language, a tradi-

tional pride, and many feel it beneath their national dignity to

express themselves in any other language than their own, except

when obliged to by commercial reasons or some other equal

necessity. 1 hus we find that in the French colonies, the man-

dated territories of France, the Frenchman does not make it his

business to learn the language of the native but attempts tooblige the native to learn French. En gland, on the other hand,

takes a distinctly different position. She feels it is her duty and

obligation to become thoroughly conversant with the language

of the people of her colonies, and every public servant is obliged

to do so. Thus we find that England has a better understanding,

generally speaking, of the problems of the people of her colonies

than has France.

W e had arrived in Paris early in the afternoon. The day was

bright and warm, the sort of a day one looks forward to ex-

periencing in Paris. W e loaded our luggage in three taxis (and

I might add that in the last few years Paris has done away with

her traditional taxis which seemed like relics of the past, and

has adopted a style of taxi which is more like the American one

than any others to be found in Europe) and were soon on our

way. Visitors to Paris five years ago know it was the customfor taxicabs to have mounted on them the early type rubber bulb

horn in addition to their modern electric horns. Taxis were for-



bidden to operate tbeir electric borns witbin tbe city limits, and

were consequently continually obliged to blow the bulb horn

at least two or three times in each block, and each one had adifferent pitch or note. At first the visitor would find it amusing,

and finally extremely annoying and irritating. W ith the increase

of motor cars and taxis, the noise became a menace and finally

was done away with. Actu ally the visitor senses a quietude

which is unnatural for Paris. Afte r a short winding trip through

the streets of Paris from the Gare de Lyon, then along the Rue

de Rivoli, we pulled up at our hotel opposite the famous Tuil

erie s Gardens, which were palace grounds for centuries andnow form a beautiful park.

I he balance of that day and part of the next day were to be

free. Wê were to devote them to our own interests before we

began again filming historical sites and continuing interviews

with officials of the Rosicrucian Order and allied mystical or-

ganizations in Paris. W e hurried from our rooms after arrang-

ing our luggage, and decided at the curb that we would visit

the majestic Notre Dame Cathedral on the little island in theSeine R iver which flows through the heart of Paris. A s we

rode toward the Seine, I recalled how this little island in the

heart of Paris, according to traditional history, was at one time

all there was to Paris; that the Roman generals in their accounts

to Rome, when they occupied France, told of a tribe ot people,

barbarians, who lived on the islands in the Seine. Then again

I thought of that medieval philosopher, Abelard, who had nu-

merous controversies with the Roman Church during theeleventh century and who, because of his advanced ideas,

jeopardized his life, and how he went to Paris to study logic and

rhetoric and finally his teacher, W illiam of Cham peaux, ad -

mitted to him that he could teach him no more. Abelard then

established his own school, and it is said that from the nucleus

of his school, which he also established on the island of the

Seine, later went forth students who took part in what finally

was the establishment of the famed Oxford University.



It is said that everything we see, every scene or place or thing

leaves a color impression on our minds, suggests either two or

three pronounced colors or combinations of them; that aside fromthe details of the thing we have a memory of it in color; that it

suggests color or light shading to us aside from its form. W e

all agreed that the grey stone walls along the Seine with their

points or bridges of stone which have been there for several

centuries, and the other stone, grey, cold, uninviting buildings

on either side, gave us an impression not ol form particularly,

but of just black and white. W e later seemed to have the

memory impression of our experiences as darkness with just

patches of light representing the blue sky and the sun’s rays

which found their way between the mass of buildings and walls

and were reflected on the muddy waters of the Seine.

Man s works are mighty when they can instill within him the

same feeling of awe as do the great things of nature. The Notre

Dam e Cath edral does that. Its great height, rising hundreds of

feet over the Seine, the massive stones, the height of the centernave, the diffused lighting caused by the beautiful stained glass

windows, tbe great flagging, the grotesque gargoyles looking as

though they were leering down at you, leave one feeling small,

insignificant. And yet the greatness of the structure, the stability

and beauty of it, causes one to realize that with all that we are

able to accomplish today, we can not greatly improve upon this

beautiful example of Gothic architecture. W^hen one realizes

that this great edifice was built without the use of steel or girdersand that the great arches which press against them are the flying

buttresses or oblique, separate outer walls supporting the inner

ones, one marvels at the ingenuity of these early builders. Every-

where there are, in this great edifice, suggestions of wealth,

power, and strength. The early church had need of such lavish

display, for strung about these great cathedrals in Europe in the

Middle Ages were the squalid shacks, one might call them, of

the populace. In them people led a sordid life; gloom, dirt, filth,

fear and superstition existed in them. I he average person s



clothes were not much more than just what was necessary to

cover his body. There was nothing that represented beauty.

People had no beautiful furniture or jewels or paintings. Th ey had no musical instruments except a few of the very crudest

kind. Everything in life was dull and uninspiring. Life itself

seemed to be hardly worth living. 1 here was nothing that could

awaken within people who lived at that time an appreciation

of the magnificence of God, of the beauty and splendor of the

things which he had created. Natu ral ly before they could ap-

preciate the divine, they had to realize something which sug-

gested, by its very nature and difference from their ordinary life,

that it was divine. T herefore, the church, collecting the pennies,

the coppers. the sous of these people, was able to build in their

midst a temple of such splendor and magnificence and majesty

as depicted the G od to which it was devoted. A nd on religious

holidays or when the people gathered in these big temples for

worship they truly felt that they were in a sacred sanctum ol

God, for the world of the church was so different from theirs.

There was beautiful music, such as they never heard elsewhere,

magnificent paintings and murals they could not see any-

where else ; there was a structure, stable, strong, representing

eternity, and the reliability and dependability of God Himself

in contrast to their frail structures which were like unto the life

of man. And so, though we may condemn the early church,

on the one hand, for taking the few miserable coins that these

people had and using them to build such lavish structures, yet

they received in return more spiritual benefit and more of an

awakening of their inner natures through that means than they

could have through the expending of their pennies, their cop-

pers, in any other way. So we can say that the church was

justified in its expenditures for these beautiful cathedrals.

The hour was late before we returned to our hotel, and we

were glad to retire.

The next day was not so pleasant a one. 1 he skies were

leaden, and the smoke of the city was more visible against them



than the day before. There was a slow rain, one that seemed

ceaseless, and it bad a depressing effect upon the mood. How -

ever, we determined to visit another historical site. Th is wasthe socalled Temple of Justice on the opposite side of the Seine.

A gain we set out in a taxi. 1 he taxi is the most dependable

means of transportation in Paris with the exception of the sub-

way, and as taxi fare is so cheap, the average visitor prefers it

to traveling in the congested subways, which, like most subways,

usually do not have terminals or stations within the vicinity of

the place you wish to visit.

The Temple of Justice is visible for quite some distance before

you arrive at it. It is a large, imposing building. Each corner

of it is flanked with a towerlike turret so that it looks like a

medieval castle. It apparently bas never been cleaned by sand

blasting as are many of the old stone buildings in America, for

its walls are extremely black, as though they had been coated

or painted with a black pigment. O ne gets a chill in looking

at it, a sort of dread feeling. In the center of the square buildingbetween the two large turrets or towers is a great gateway, mas-

sive and composed of an iron grill. 1 he bottom of the grill has

spikes, and the whole gate itself is studded with bolts which are

apparently handriveted. This Temple of Justice, as it is now

called, was used during the French Revolution as the place

where royalty was confined, where aristocrats were imprisoned,

before their trials or, as we might say, 'mock trials, and before

they were led to the guillotine. A s you approach the large gate-

way, you feel your spirits ebbing; whether it is the suggestion

of the building itself, its cold atmosphere, or whether it is knowl-

edge of the fact that thousands were confined there before they

lost their lives through political upheaval. M an y were tortured

there. Most all were led from there to their deaths. Political

prisoners during the French Revolution who were led into that

gateway knew it meant the end of freedom and the end of life.

It was like crossing the threshold from this life to another.



W e passed through the gateway into the courtyard. The

courtyard consisted of cobblestones irregularly laid, and not even

uniform in height. About the small quadrangle were the four walls of the structure, all of the same cold appearing stone. One

felt so physically oppressed that it seemed even difficult to

breathe, though of course the courtyard was open to the sky.

1 he only openings in the walls of the building were long narrow

apertures about three feet in length and perhaps eight or ten

inches in width. Behind these slitlike windows were little al-

coves in which a man could stand and look out, and shoot from

them if necessary without exposing himself too greatly. If onelooked up at these apertures which were dark, because of the

shadows of the interior, one almost felt as if eyes were piercing

him, as if he were being scanned by an invisible person. W e

quickly crossed the cobblestone courtyard to a low arched door

way typical of Gothic architecture. W e stepped down three

wellworn steps and pushed heavily against a plank door with

its strap iron braces, which creaked on its rusty hinges as it

swung open. W e looked into an enormous subterranean cham-ber with a vaulted ceiling, with many squatty columns of great

circumference. I hese columns supported the entire structure

in the manner of Gothic buildings. I he columns were joined at

their tops by arches forming a series of pockets or vaults in the

cei ling. It was very dark, except for the yellow light of a small

gas jet. One could easily see that the gas light had been added

some time later lor the pipe was strung between and fastened

to the columns. Th e flame was flickering considerably becauseof the drafts that came from this great underground area. W e

closed the door behind us, which left us alone in this great

chamber.

For no reason whatsoever we spoke in hushed voices as

though we were afraid of awakening someone or attracting at-

tention to ourselves. Finally , realizing that there must be an

attendant in the place, I called out. The echo of my voice seemed

to spring back toward us lrom every corner as it resounded



throughout the stone chamber. It was flung back at us from the

vaulted ceiling, from the stone floor, from the many pillars. It

was as though we had aw aken ed a thousand demons wlio were jeering at us. It was a startling effect. However, it had the

desired result, for there approached us an attendant in a tattered

uniform who, though he was there tor that purpose, and must

have received visitors frequently, seemed rather curious because

we were there. W e explained the best w ay we could in rather

broken French what we desired: that we wanted to be shown

about; particularly did we want to see the famous cell of Marie

Antoinette. He motioned us to follow him, which we did, and we wended our w ay among the forest of massive columns to a

circular stone staircase. At the bottom of the stone staircase

was another heavy plank door with an enormous bolt and chain,

crude but very substantial. In the upper center of the door was

a grill or aperture about ten inches square with three stout bars

in it. They were so rusty that the metal was crystalizing or flak-

ing away. Over the grill opening was the remains of a small

shutter, apparently so that it could be closed and the prisonerin the cell could not see out. Th is, the attendant explained, w as

the cell of the famous and beautiful Marie Antoinette. She was

confined for quite some time before she was taken from the cell

and led in a rough, high woodenwheeled cart through the streets

of Paris before the shouting, screaming throngs to the guillotine.

1 here was her stone couch, and the little shrine at which she

prayed dai Iy. T he vibrations were intense, acute. W e had

engendered within us in that cell, mingled feelings of fear,

hatred, and of remorse. There in the cell also were big iron

rings driven into the stones, to which unruly prisoners could be

chained. 1 hen we were led to another cell, and still another,

and finally again back into the great subterranean chamber, the

dungeonlike vast hall. It was in this great chamber that the

aristocrats, the ladies and gentlemen, the counts and the count-

esses, sat about playing cards, talking in low voices, weeping,

consoling each other, praying, hoping, while several times a day



the bolts and chains would rattle on the outer gate and in would

comp officers of the Citizens’ Guard who would read from a long

scroll the names of those who were next to be tried in a court

composed of the Revolutionaries. W hen their names were read,

shrieks would read the stone chamber, for all knew that when

they were led before the tribunal they could expect no mercy

and no justice, for there was no trial. They were all condemned

to death, and it was just the formality of passing in review be

fore the judges — the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick

maker — and almost before the name of a defendant left the

lips of the clerk of the court a cry would arise from the court.

Guilty — the guillotine.

Tbere is a fascination about a gruesome place such as the

I emple ol Justice. One would imagine that he or she would

be anxious to leave, flee from the place, seek the fresh outdoors,

or that even the rain would be welcome and refreshing. Bu t

instead you are drawn to investigate further. The horror of it

seems to grip the mind; draw you on and on.

W e finally returned to our hotel, and Frate r Brower and I

prepared our photography equipment, for the next day was to

be a busy one for us. Th e third day was in our favor, photo-

graphica lly speaking. T ne sun shone brighi and the atmosphere

was unusu ally clear of the customary smoke. Wê set out in

search of the quarters of the famed Count Alessandro Caglios

tro, prominent in the annals of the Eighteenth Century. W e

could not describe to our driver that we wanted to go to the

formr r residence and garret laboratory of the renowned al-

chemist and mystic Cagliostro, for Cagliostro is not even knownto the average Frenchman except to those who have studied

mysticism and philosophy and the history of that period thor-

oughly. So w e had to give him the name of the rue or street.

It was quite a drive; it took us approximately half an hour to

reach there. Wê found ourselves in the heart of bustling, noisy

Paris. It was a light wholesale district. The houses of the street

were all one hundred to two hundred and fifty years old. Most



of them liacl been converted into factories for manufacturing

of fabrics. It was now strictly a commercial center. W e im-

mediately found tbe place we sought because of its unusual

appearance. Tbe building was recessed, surrounded by a high

cement wall. O n top of the cement wall, which was about

twelve or fourteen feet in height, was an iron railing, and back

from that iron railing we could see the upper two stories of the

building. The garret story was quite eerie looking. It consisted

of a series of superimposed windows, that looked as though

they were fastened or attached to the stone building, and

T H E G A R R E T L A BO R A T O R Y O F C A G L IO S T R O

In the heart of bustling, noisy Paris, this solemn, attentionarresting

residence of a famed mystic of nearly two centuries ago. Onto the super-imposed garret balcony, the alchemist philosopher, C ount Allesandro

Cagliostro, hoisted from the cobblestone court below his kegs of chem-

icals used in his secret experiments.(Photo by AMORC)



extended from the face of it. But wh at principally caught our

attention and definitely identified it as the place we sought was

the garret balcony. It was a little porch that extended out fromthe edge of the top story, and over this porch which had a simple

iron railing about it was a low narrow roof, and projecting from

the edge of the roof was a metal bar about four feet in length

from which hung a pulley, and from which dangled a strand

of cable. It was from that balcony that Count Alessandro C ag li-

ostro hoisted from the cobblestone courtyard below his kegs of

chemicals and boxes of instruments used in his secret alchemical

experiments.

Cagliostro in his youth had gone to the Orient and studied

in the mystery schools there, and became well versed in the secret

laws of nature. Returning again to Europe, he became re-

nowned as a healer. He effected miraculous cures. He seemed

always to be in possession of great wealth, jewels and gems,

and he was lavish in his contributions to the poor and needy.

His demonstrations ol natural law gained for him the reputa-

tion, on the one hand, of being an astute philosopher and al-

chemist, and on the other hand he was accused by those who

feared his powers of being a black magician and of practicing

the arts of Satan . From where his tremendous wealth came,

which seemed endless, no one quite knew. It was said that he

had discovered the means of transmuting the baser metals into

gold and thus could make gold at will. Becau se of the great

cures he effected, it was said that he had also found the elixir

of life. Kings and potentates sought his counsel and his help,

but as bis fame spread, so did also jealousy and fear of him. It

is said he entered Paris riding in a great gold coach laden with

gems, and with chests of gold. He was charged with many

crimes and successfully defended himself against them. Some

of his greatest accusers were those who held high positions in

the church. I he persecution becam e more intense, and finally

he was dragged bodily from his garret home and wrongly im-

prisoned for 1 e. Fo r years the only historical accounts were



those whi ch came down to us from prejudiced persons, declaring

him to be a charlatan, a mountebank, a fraud, and an imposter.

Since that time other facts have been found which revea 1 that

he was not a charlatan, not a fraud, but a true mystic >— one who

used his wealth for the benefit of others and most certainly had

a mastery of natural law which he sought to teach and which

caused mingled feelings of respect and fear toward him.

W ith these thoughts in mind we entered the courtyard and

looked about. Everything was disillusioning. Along the three

sides of the courtyard were doorways that originally had perhapsled into private chambers of his residence. N ow they were door-

ways leading into shops, and over the doorways hung either

brass or wooden signs, and through some of the partly open

doors we could see women working at sewing machines manu-

facturing garments. From some of the windows overhead wear-

ing apparel was hanging and modern household utensils were

evident. There seemed to be no appreciation of the fact that

they were living in what was at one time the center of the

greatest mystery of Europe — the residence and the garret labora-

tory of Cagliostro, the man who held the respect, fear and

admiration of the crowned heads of Europe. Most of them did

not even know that this old building had been the property of

Cagliostro. A s we stood looking about, a man approached us

from one of the shops. Fie appeared to be the superintendent,

and asked us what place we wished. W e explained that we were merely visitors and desired to take a few photographs. He

seemed puzzled as to why we wished to photograph these small

places of business or shops. W re explained that we were here

because of its historical interest; that we knew, in fact, that this

was the former residence of the mystic and alchemist Cagliostro.

He looked quizzically at us for a moment and replied that it was,

but that no one except himself and one other of the attendantsknew anything about it, and they said nothing about it as they

did not want to attract visitors who would interfere with the

business activities. He said we could not enter the garret because



it was occupied by a tailoring establishment and the tailor him-

self had never heard of Cagliostro and did not, of course, know

that he was occupying the laboratory of the alchemist. It seemed

such a travesty, that nothing was done to respect the memory

of this character. A t least — we thought — a brass plate could

have been erected to his memory somewhere in the courtyard.

I had known from my studies and from our Rosicrucian

archives that there was a secret passageway and stairway which

led to the garret, and that the passageway also led out bom

this court for several blocks to some other residence in the city that Cagliostro would use when desiring to evade the curious

throngs who used to collect about the outer wall either waiting

to see him or to solicit his gold. M y attention was attracted to

one of the doors in the corner of the courtyard. It was a little

smaller than the rest, but particularly was it noticeable because

it was not wooden like the others, but was all metal, a solid

sheet of metal. It looked like a fire exit, such as we use in

buildings today, with a metal door to prevent the spread of fire

from one building to another. I pointed to it. And that? I said.

He seemed to sense what I thought and he said. That is not

in use any longer. It used to be a tunnel or passageway that led

out somewhere into this district, but long ago a portion of it

caved in and so it has fallen into disuse, and we keep the iron

doorway closed so that it will not be used by anyone, thus they

will not be injured.' Cagliostro s? I asked. He replied, Most likely, as no one

remembers when it was constructed and apparently it was made

at the time this building was erected several centuries ago.” W e

had all the information we needed and we immediately took

photographs.

On the final afternoon of our stay in Paris I met Mademoiselle

Guesdon at a prearranged time. Sh e accompanied me to an

appointment with Frater B , Sovereign Suprem e Master of

the Order of M . . . . into which I had been duly initiated in

Brussels. Frater B . . . . holds a prominent position in France.



He is Secretary of the Archives of the French Government, a

department containing the records, manuscripts, books and

papers, and documents of State — a most responsible and im-

portant position. Th e Lib rary of Archives is located in the

Chamber of Deputies Building in Paris, an historical place, once

a palace. A fter a short ride we arrived at the Cham ber of

Deputies and Mademoiselle Guesdon and myself were escorted

into the private office of Frater B ..........

Frater B . . . . is a very dynamic and forceful man, a man of

approximately fifty years of age but with the vitality, stamina

and energy of a much younger man. He speaks quickly, he actsquickly, he thinks quicklv. Life holds two principal interests

for him besides his family — his work, the responsible position

he has in the French Government, and his mystical philosophical

studies and office in the F U D O S I and the Order of M ............

O ur exchange of ideas was a little difficult as Frater B . . . . spoke

no English and I no French. So again Mademoiselle Guesdon

came to my aid. W e discussed at length the work of the

A M O R C in America , and the work of the Ord er of M . . . . inEurope. Frater B . . . . explained that he had conferred upon the

Imperator of the Rosicrucian Order of A M O R C certain au -

thority to establish in North and South America the Order of

M ...............and that before I left France I, too, would receive

authority to assist the Imperator in the establishment of this

Order.*

Seeing my great interest in the Chamber of Deputies because

of its historical significance, and because it is one of the impor-

tant departments of tbe French Government, he personally

escorted me throughout the old building into what formerly were

the ball rooms and library and music rooms of the nobility that

occupied it before the Revolution. Then he took me into one of

the alcoves of the archives and there were great bound volumes,

scrolls, manuscripts, dating back for centuries. M an y of these

* This reference to the Imperator refers to Dr. H. Spencer Lewis.



volumes and manuscripts are priceless because of tbeir historical

value. For example, he showed me the handwritten court record

of the trial of Marie Antoinette, whose cell we had visited but

two days before. He pointed out in this old manuscript how

every time any defense was raised in her behalf, the jurists

would cry out. Guillotine, Guillotine, and there in black and

white appears this blemish on justice. It w as a strange sensation

to look upon such a manuscript and to visualize the scene that

took place when these events were recorded. Th ings of the

greatest historical importance seem commonplace to Europeans,

for there they have so much that is of the past —<surrounded

with history. A ny one of the things would demand considerable

attention in our new America. The very chair which Frater

B . . . . used as his personal office chair was an antique that

would gladden the heart of any dealer in America or elsewhere,

and would bave brought an enormous sum in sale. 7 he chair

came from the private library of King Louis VIII of France,

yet I rater B . . . . was using it as just another piece of office

furniture, and he smiled at my amazement at his commonplace

acceptance of this antique.

W hen we finally left it was dusk, and we were caught in the

throngs returning to home from work. 1 he jostling, pushing,

scurrying crowds at 6:00 P. M. in Paris are no different in their

anxiety to return home after routine affairs and enjoy their fire-

sides and their personal interests than the office and workaday

crowds one finds in any city in Am erica or Can ad a. This night

we could not enjoy strolling along Parisian boulevards, up the

Rue de Rivoli or along the Madeleine, nor could we sit at tbe

Cafe de la Paix where it is said the world passes by, and which,

it is also said, is the most cosmopolitan spot in Europe, for we

had to pack and prepare for a long journey. Wê were truly to

start Eastw ard on the morrow — Egypt was beckoning. Our

trek along the trail of civilization was to begin in earnest.



Chapter IV

M O T H E R N I LE

T h e w a t e r FRONT of any large port of the world is fascinating.

The bustling, the clatter of carts, trucks and dorries over cobble-

stones, the deepthroated whistles of chugging tugs, the raucous

cries of longshoremen and teamsters, all add to the undercurrent

of excitement. Sham , hypocrisy, and shallow conventions drop

by the wayside. Th e stark realities of life are revealed. W hen

men go to sea they are compelled to struggle with one of the

earth s greatest untamed elements. Preparation for its conquest

requires strong will and matteroffact conduct. Passengers may

have idealistic illusions about traveling the high seas, but the

men who load cargo and make the great vessels ready for de-

parture know that with all the safety devices provided by modern

science, the event is fraught with dangers.The port of Marseilles in Southern France, a city of nearly

a million population, impresses the traveler with the fact that it

is more than a shipping center or a great port of call, but a gate-

way to the East. Here the flotsam and jetsam of North Afr ica,

and from East of the Suez, meet with the backwash of Occi-

dental Europe. A s we stood on the pier surrounded by large

cases which, from their size, may have contained airplanes or

automobiles, and leaned languorously against bales of cotton

from French Morocco, we studied the flow of humanity past us.

Through one of those unexpected events of travel, the ship

we were scheduled to take was called suddenly from the service

and we were forced to delay our sailing several hours. Wê

were the only ones waiting who looked strictly, shall we say,

like passengers. Tall Algerian blacks, with tattered, illfitting

French army uniforms, shuffled past. Th eir eyes stared vacu -ously ahead. W^hat did life hold for them? Plucked from their

native environment, these simple souls were enlisted in the



French army; fed poorly, and paid badly they existed, aim-

lessly following the orders of white masters. Trained to use

modern arms and methods of warfare against European white

armies if necessary, they could be a menace to France, if ever

it dawned in their consciousnesses that they were being made

puppets for the avarice of white men. Children of their app e-

tites, they are content if these appetites are regularly appeased.

To maintain the necessary quietude among them, liberal France

does not even draw the racial line. In cafes and on streets,

Algerian native officers and French white girls enjoy each other s

company without apparent social detriment to either.

Scores of unkempt and gaunt priests gathered in knots, talking

prof usely, gesticulating freely, their personal belongings in black

cloth bundles at their feet or dangling from their hands at their

sides; solemn faced plump nuns wearing frayed grey tunics,

methodically climbed the gangplank. Ea ch looked, even before

departure, as though sorely affected by nostalgia. Ihese were

Christian missionaries, their dangling crucifixes, and well

thumbed Bibles which they clutched, were to them torches, tobe carried to dark Africa to — as they believed — a heathen

people. Such a simple faith carried to an irrational extreme has

been the unfortunate cause of untold deaths, bloody orgies, and

gruesome massacres. Th e ideal of spreading Christianity is

noble, but the attitude of damning the beliefs of others to further

it is ignoble. To most of these missionaries, as to thousands of

others of different Christian denominations, their duty was the

condemnation of the beliefs of simpleminded natives, and thent le substitution of Christianity. To rob a man of his God, and

his belief in the nature of divinity, is to throw him on the mercy

of his own resources until, if and when, he can accept a change.

To term the God of the Buddhist, Confucian, Mohammedan,

Brahman, or even that of the primitive African a false deity, is

to them a sacrilege equal to making a like statement to a Chris-

tian. It arouses resentment, that another may dare to name his



God as superior and suggest abandonment of one’s own. Others

than ( hristians are lovers of sacred traditions and have Bibles

and temple teachings which they cherish as the words of theOmnipotent. The order or request that they lay these aside is

an effrontery which is not taken lightly. W h at end does Ch ris-

tianity serve by this? Education, sanitation, hygiene, culture, can

be advanced equally well by other methods and by nonsec-

tarian movements which do not antagonize. If Christianity is

to gain converts in nonChristian countries, let her do it by

examples of tolerance, mercv, and understanding, not throughridicule and the undermining of sensibilities. The former traits

are, after all, the true implements of Christianity.

Hilarious voices, loud laughter, attracted our attention. Open,

smiling faces passed. There were several fam ilies; rotund fathers

heavily bearded, with funny round caps and tight trousers —

mothers in voluminous skirts which they held outstretched to

sweep along before them dirtyfaced, wideeyed youngsters,much like mother hens gathering in their chicks — peasants

bound for Sy ria and colonization. Sy ria offered them lower

taxes, more land, fewer conveniences, the same labors — life

the same, but the scene changed. Mingled feelings arise in the

breasts of the more fortunate who watch such parades as these.

Vanity struggles with compassion, but reason tells us that the

gulf between was bridged only by the flimsy structure of oppor-

tunities which the past afforded us or our progenitors.

A shrill blast awakened us to the need to scurry aboard. O ur

baggage had been loaded some time previously. The prospect

of our journey on the S. S. Providence of the French Line was

not promising. Frater Brower, having had nautical experience,

observed that the exterior of the ship was quite lacking in order-

liness. Her steel plates were wellrusted; the former white of

her upper hull and superstructure was now a dirty grey and

bad ly chipped. Her stacks were smeared with soap and her

stanchions bent in several places. Wîth an air of contempt, he



murmured a tub, which to him was a sufficient expression to

convey conclusions of his appraisal of her. W e stepped on deck

and looked about. Everything was confusion; no stewards to

direct us to our staterooms, no signs pointing out directions.

Ropes, cables, blocks and tackles and piles of weathertorn

canvas lay strewn about. In contrast to the clean and efficiently

organized British liners, this made one think of the old Atlantic

cattle boats. The lack of cleanliness was only lo be equalled

by the discourtesies of the crew who were sullen, and accus-

tomed to herding about passive peasants and clerics.

It was the th ird da y out. The sea rose and fell with a slightquiver, like gelatin. I have never seen it so glasslike. The sky

was a magnificent blue, without the flaw of even one white

cloud. The sun was on our starboard side, and shone warm ly,

but not uncomfortably, upon us. It encouraged rumination. On

this same sea, this great Mediterranean, men had ventured as

early as thirty centuries B . C . W h at crude craft they must have

possessed, what indomitable courage, to push out into a vast

area like this not knowing what lay beyond, or even if there was a beyond. M any fathoms below us in this blue black,

fringed with white frothy foam, were perhaps the remains of

the early Greek vessels that plied between the homeland and

ancient Syracuse. Perhaps, too, there were fragments of proud

Roman galleys, sunk in conflict with their mighty Carthaginian

foes. W h at a story the Mediterranean would tell if she regurgi-

tated all she had swallowed during the centuries! Th is sea must

have looked the same to the admirals of many armadas and toconquering Ca esars. Nations and civilizations had crashed and

fallen upon her bosom, but she gave no sign of the centuries

she had witnessed. Ceaseless and unchanging, she was an

example of how little man’s puny efforts affect nature.

Though land was nowhere in sight, I thought of the favored

spot of the land surface of the earth toward which we were

bound — the cradle of civilization, as historians refer to it —



the great fertile crescent; that fringe of grass land that extends

from the northern tip of the Red Sea to the mouth of the Nile.

North of it are mountains, and south of it a great bay of sand,as the eminent archaeologist, Jam es Breasted, described it. A t

its southwest extremity is the great Nile River Valley, and at

the eastern end of the crescent, the TigrisEuphrates River

Valley. In these two valleys began the oldest civilization of

which we have any record. How and why they began there we

can only conjecture, but nature apparently arranged her forces

and elements to make them conducive to the development of

man. This is obvious, as we shall later see.

One tires of sea journeys, especially after several days of

rnal de mer or, in other words, seasickness. The sea had sud-

denly changed one night to a plunging, swirling fury which

tossed the fairly large ship about with ease; raising it to heights,

the sea would let it slide with a sickening shiver, wallowing in

a deep trough, the next moment to boost it up, suspended, it

seemed, in midair, and then to let it fall again, it rolling dizzily all the while as if trying va inly to steady itself. A ll this was

now past. The sea had quieted except for choppy waves which

were whipped by a brisk breeze. W e were recuperating, finding

pleasure in the thought that in a little more than an hour we

were to come in sight of the shores of Egypt. The very word

Eg yp t” electrified us. Fratres Shibley, Brower and myself went

below to prepare our baggage for custom inspection, expecting

considerable difficulties with the customs because of the great

amount of cinema equipment and films. A fter tedious packing

and a lapse of considerable time, we returned to the deck. The

ship had slowed her speed. W e peered southeastward and

thrilled at the sight. There was a long sandy strip of land hardly

above the surface of the sea. It was the entrance to the port of

Alexandria. O n this sand strip there stood a moderately tall

lighthouse. It was in this vicinity that the famed island of Pharos was located. On that island in the entrance to the mouth of

the Nile, during the Hellenistic period about 300 B. C., was



erected the first lighthouse of the world. A great structure, it

rose to a height of some 370 feet, or about thirty stories, equalling

many of our skyscrapers. The ancient mariners could see its

great light far out at sea, and were guided safely in with their

strange cargoes. Its Oriental design later became the basis of

the Mohammedan minarets commonly seen today as a part of

tbe architectural structure of their great mosques or temples. It

finally fell in 13 60 A . D . It was the last of the great tower struc-

tures influenced by the Babylonian tower builders.

W e thought of the thousands of ships through the centuries

that must have approached this port as we were doing. W eimagined Cretans laden with finely carved earthen vessels and

vases, and beautiful necklaces and bracelets of gold and of

bronze; Greek ships with statuary and marble; Egyptians re-

turning after trading hardwoods from up the Nile, and papyrus

from the delta, and copper from the ancient mines on the penin-

sula of Sinai. A t that time, Alexand ria was not only a seat of

learning but was. as Breasted puts it, the New York or Liverpool

of the ancient world — a great shipping or trading center.

A s the ship maneuvered into position for tying at the dock,

a motley crowd gathered to welcome it, shouting, screaming,

jumping up and down, waving their hands. They were anxious

for their prey — the passengers. Egyptian fellahs who served

as porters, Nubians, Arabs, Jews from Palestine, and Syrians,

either wishing to act as guides or assistants, jostled each other

for vantage positions. Som e wore tarbooshes (fezzes), others

low turbans of loosely wound and much soiled linen. Sti ll others

were bareheaded. Som e were clothed in awninglike striped

gowns and barefooted, and the majority wore what appeared

to be open necked flannel nightgowns which nearly trailed in

the dust of the waterfront street. Native police were finding it

difficult to maintain any semblance of order though they were

freely applying bamboolike canes to heads, backs and shoul-

ders. A fte r much explanation, annoyance, and a liberal distri-



bution of bakshish (native vernacular for present or money), we

were seated in a modern, comfortable railroad coacb wbicb sped

southward along tbe great Nile toward Cairo.

Tbe Nile is one of tbe greatest rivers in tbe world. It begins

tbree degrees soutb of the equator, and flowing northward at-

tains a length of some four thousand mi les. It, the W hite Nile,

is joined by two tributaries >the Blue Nile, its affluent, from

the east, and one hundred and forty miles below this union, the

Atb ara joins it. The volume of the Nile is not great, but it has

influenced the destiny of man more than any other river in thehistory of the world. Fo r centuries it carried its alluvial soil to

the sea from equatorial Africa, each season periodically over-

flowing its channel and depositing on either side, on top of the

parched Libyan and Arabian desert sands, a black, smooth film

of the most fertile soil of the world. Inch by inch, year by year

it grew deeper, pushing the desert back from the river channel

itself. Vegetation flourished in this black rich soil; it grew right

up to the edge of the desert itself.

Here in this valley the early Stone Age man, who in some

manner crossed the Mediterranean from Central Europe ahead

of the great glacial descents, found himself in an ideal environ-

ment. Egypt is not visited by any severe storms. 1 here are no

frosts or snows. Having once arrived in Egypt, he was protected

from tbe ice, from the glacial movements, by the great natural

barrier of the Mediterranean; and on either side of this Nile

strip were great almost uncrossable deserts which protected him

from enemies, and he was at peace with the world for a con-

siderable time. W^hat he was able to accomplish within each

decade and century remained. Civilization was able to build

on the accomplishments of those who had gone before, instead

of having all torn asunder by ravishing hordes or the destruc-

tion of nature, and being forced to begin again. Thu s civilizationprospered, flourished, at a time when the rest of the world was

either wholly barbarian or extremely primitive.



A s we sped southward, we found that in many respects the

customs of these simple people had not changed with the years.

On either side of us was a network of small canals, irrigation

canals. Irrigation began in the N ile V alle y and w as developed

to a science at a time when men in other parts of the world were

still chipping flint hatchets. W e could see small brownskinned

men standing kneedeep in the water close to the banks and

working lifts — long poles, each having a mud basket fastened

on one end, and on the other end a mud ball as a counter weight

—and by manipulating this sweep or pole they would lift bas-

kets of water from the Nile up to the level of the irrigation

ditches, keeping a steady flow running through the intensely

cultivated lands.

Further on we could see the application of the simplest me-

chanical form of pumping water, water wheels, to which were

fastened buckets which would scoop up the water, and which

were kept in motion by docile water buffalo ■—<the great beast

of burden of the Egyptian — walking about in a circle, b lind-

folded to keep from becoming dizzy from the incessant circular

motion. In the days of the Pharaohs taxes began with this sys-

tem of irrigation. It was an intricate system. Th^ ditches and

dyk es had to be constantly protected and maintained. The

Pharaohs and the nobles maintained a corps ol what we may

call engineers and constructors to build new irrigation dams and

ditches and to maintain those in existence. They in turn exacted

taxes from the peasants in return for the use of the canals and

the water. 1 hese taxes amounted to a certain portion of their

crops which had to be delivered at a given time. If they were

not, officers of the nobles or the Pharaoh would seize the peasant

and bring him to the royal or feudal court for reckoning.

Frequently we passed beautiful groves of tall, swaying palm

trees, native to the country. A ll about us w as green, though not

many miles away on either side was the lifeless glaring desert.

A ll this life, this coolness, this vegetation, was dependent upon

this one source, the Nile.



It is not surprising that the Egyptians worshipped the Nile.

They regarded it as the god of fertility and life itself. It provided

them with food, with drink; its rise and fall made it possiblefor them to tell the passing of time. It carried them to the sea.

Their whole existence was bound up in it.

The Egyptians were not always a united people, however.

There were at one time many little kingdoms that spread along

the Nile. Then, in a later period, these kingdoms united into

two great ones — the kingdom of the Upper Nile and the king-

dom of the Lower Nile. M an y wars were waged for the con-

quest and sole control of this fertile valley.

Occasionally as we concentrated on what we were passing,

we would have a fleeting glimpse of native mud villages, houses

constructed much like the early C al romia adobe ones, bricks

made of the thick alluvial soil, reinforced with straw, which

would become baked by the sun, hard and resisting. A s Egypt

is never subject to rain they were quite durable, and an insula-

tion against the terrific heat of the summer months. Dom esti-cated animals, poultry, and children freely walked in and out

and around the houses of the village. Th e streets were but deep

ruts in the mud. Soon we were to reach Cairo. It is said that

before reaching Cairo and just as one is approaching, the great

Pyramids of Gizeh can be seen rising above the flat table lands

of the desert. However, w e were not favored with seeing them.

Cairo is a tremendously large city and is affected greatly by European customs, architecture, dress, methods of transporta-

tion, etc. In modern Cairo one feels as though he were in a

city such as Paris, Naples, or some other metropolis of the world.

Street cars jangle by, taxis are honking, people are well dressed

in the Occidental sense, streets are well paved. One finds a

tremendous modern influence in architecture. Be autifully de-

signed apartment houses, towering several stories, are to be seen

in various sections of the city. The designs show the invasion

of German architectural ideas and are of a style that is just

making itself known in the bigger cities of the United States.



It must be quite deflating to American egotism tbat considers

American structures and buildings tbe most advanced. Here

were apartment buildings equal, in tbeir exterior part at least,

and superior in many ways to tbose in our Am erican cities. Tbe y

are mostly occupied by wealthy persons who spend two or three

months of the year in Cairo, taking advantage of its salubrious

climate. The only suggestions in modem Cairo of the Orient are

the robes and tarbooshes worn by native Egyptians and by the

Arabs. Most of these robes are worn by the dragomen or the

Egyptian guides who adopt native costume in Cairo to attract

the attention of tourists and travelers. Their robes are highly

ornamental, made of heavy silk, with beautiful linings, and

artistically embroidered brocades. Most of the Egyptian business

men in Ca iro have adopted the western style of dress. A few

still cling to the tarboosh because it is a symbol of Mohamme-

danism. It is more than just a hat; it designates one s religious

belief.

After locating at our hotel , we immediately proceeded to make

inquiries about the city itself. The first point of attraction is

naturally the native section of the city. O ne feels that he mustnot be disappointed. He must not remain in the modem section

of Cairo for it is too much like his home country, his own city.

He does not want to spoil the mental picture he had of Cairo,

and so he quickly seeks the native section, whi ch more conforms

to his concept of what Cairo should be like.

Th e native bazaars are little changed by the years. The shops

— on either side of narrow streets, many of them covered by

domelike roofs — are but small cubbyholelike rooms, in frontof which are suspended on chains and ropes, or stacked on

wooden shelves attached to the wall on either side of the door-

way, samples of all the merchandise which the shopkeeper has

for sale. Naturally, as you walk through the streets you are

immediately recognized as a foreigner, as a European, if not

an American, and the hawkers begin crying their wares and

their prices, rushing out to grab you by the elbow, trying to



escort you into their shops, proclaiming to you that their wares

are the best if not the most reasonable. How unfortunate one is

if he makes a purchase at the first price quoted. Unlike our

merchants in this country, they have no fixed prices for any of

their wares. Th eir price is whatever they can get from the buyer.

Usually there are from four to five reductions before a sale is

consummated. The visitor does not learn this at first, and he

usually pays six or seven times the value of an article. These

Cairo bazaars, because of the influence of England and the

modern Egyptian government, are quite clean and neat in con-trast to bazaars in Asia Minor, Damascus, and Baghdad, about

which we will have more to say later. The visitor to the Cairo

bazaars does not realize this. He thinks them quaint and un -

touched by modern civilization as he naturally has not seen

anything by which to make comparisons.

W e returned quite late to our hotel, dining on the terrace

and watching Cairo move by. Tomorrow was to be a busy day <—>a thrilling one. Tomorrow w as the eventful Septem ber 16th,

1936, the day recorded in symbolism in the Great Pyramid

itself, the day that might shape the destiny of the world. And

w e were to visit that edifice upon that day, after arranging for

the special concession. The sense of responsibility that rested

upon us, the realization that the world, through the press, was

considering the significance of this date prophesied in the Great

Pyramid, occupied our thoughts until we lost consciousness in

restful sleep.



eg ras sag a sna



Chapter V

P R O P H E C Y D A Y IN T H E G R E A T P Y R A M I D

T h o u g h an extremely inviting breakfast bad been prepared

for us, we were not in a mood for tbe consideration of food.

W b at lay ahead of us occupied our thoughts. A ll through our

travels there had been in the back of our consciousness the

thought of the Great Pyramid and September 16, 1936, theeventful day prophesied by the Pyramid itself to have a tre-

mendous future effect upon the races of mankind and our present

civilization. Even as we hurriedly ate and glanced through a

Cairo newspaper we observed that the press of that city had

taken cognizance of September 16 and, in a long article, quoted

different authorities’ interpretations of the symbolism of tbe

Great Pyramid with respect to this particular day.Sheikh Abdul, our personal guide, called for us in a modern

automobile of American make in which we placed our various

cinema equipment, tripod, camera, accessories, lens, films, filters,

and then crowded ourselves in as well. W e were soon speeding

toward the Great Pyramids.

O f course, from what one has read and pictures one has seen,

one realizes that the Pyramids are the greatest edifices ever builtby ancient man — as far as we now have knowledge of the past

— and that they are massive structures today, even in comparison

with the skyscrapers and big buildings of our modem cities. But

this realization is nothing to the actual experience of seeing

them. A s one approaches they grow monstrous and seem to

loom out of the very sands upon which they are erected. Most

paintings of the Great Pyramids make them seem very colorful, yet in the glaring sun, even in the early morning, to the eye

they are white with just a slight tint of yellow. They reflect

the brilliant sunlight on the sands.

The Pyram ids are built on a great high plateau >—the plateau

of the Sahara. They are not in the Delta region of the Nile. In



a sense, in their present state of preservation they appear crude,

like an enormous pile of gigantic blocks tumbled upon each

other and assuming, it seems, by accident the general shape of

the Pyram id. Bu t this impression is only gained when one is

close to them. From a position close to them there seems to be

little difference in size between the Great Pyramid of Cheops

and the Pyramid of Chephren.

A s one starts to walk about the base of the Cheops Pyramid

there soon dawns upon him tbe realization that it does, as esti-

mated, cover an area of some thirteen acres. The great sand-

stone blocks of which it is composed are about the shoulder

height of an average man. Fo r a height of about fifty or sixty

feet around the entire Pyramid, the great blocks are quite jagged

and protrude. Abov e that, with the exception of the one corner

or side of the Pyramid which is exposed toward the open desert,

the sides are quite smooth and almost inaccessible. The exposed

corner, however, has been whipped by the elements and the

sands for years, and it is so jagged that its blocks form a natural

stairway or steps to the apex. It would seem as though it would

be quite simple to ascend the Pyramid by this means, yet to the

inexperienced it is a tedious task. Native Ara b boys for a few

piastres willingly race to the top and return in the short time

of seven minutes.

The top of the Great Pyramid is now flat, but originally is

said to have had a gold apex, portions of which were removed at

different intervals in the past. From below one can see a slender

mast rising from the top. This steel mast, it is said, was affixed

to the top of the Great Pyramid by Napoleon and from it flewthe French flag during his occupation of Egypt.

One of the mysteries of the Great Pyramid for a considerable

time, even in late centuries, was the location of its entrance.

There was nothing visible from the outside to indicate the proper

entrance to it. I he Calip h, E l Mam oun, made a false entrance,

and this false entrance is still used today as the main entrance

to the Pyramid. It was through this false entrance that we made



our entry, climbing up to it over two or tbree of tbe large blocks,

each weighing two and a half tons, wbicb is tbe average weight

of all of them, and of which there are some two million, threehundred thousand in the G reat Pyram id — enough to form a

stone wall, four feet in height, from new York to San Francisco

and half way back.

W e entered the jagged aperture of the mammoth structure,

and then our party of four cautiously walked along a semidark

and narrow stone passageway which led to the ramp of what is

known as the Gran d Gallery . After walking along this passage- w ay for a short distance we were obliged to stoop and crawl

through a circularlike tunnel for a distance of about twenty

five or thirty feet. W h en we stood erect again we were at the

beginning of the G rand Galle ry. It was a most aweinspiring

spectacle. W 'e thrilled to the thought, as we looked upward

along this steep narrow passageway and saw above us and on

either side massive highly polished limestone blocks, that we

were in the G reat Pyramid of Egypt. Mystery of mysteries?

One feels helpless, surrounded by this w all of stone. He feels

insignificant; humble. It is peculiar but true that the Great

Pyramid inspires in man that same feeling of humility as do

some of the great works of nature. Slowly we began our ascent

up the rough stone ridges which are in the form of steps, and

which are the only means of reaching the top of the Grand

G allery. It is a steep ascent and you feel, after five or tenminutes of climbing, that the height of the Great Pyramid is

underestimated and certainly must exceed by several hundred

feet the near Iy fi ve hundred feet accredited to it.

Suddenly your attention is called to an almost obscure hole

Iike aperture to your right as you ascend. A s you look at it, it

seems as though it was not an intentional opening but perhaps

the result of damage in later years, but you are advised that thisis the true entrance to the Great Pyramid. A s you peer into tbe

inky blackness and feel a cool draft of air upon your face, you

think of the hundreds of neophytes of the mystery schools of the



past who were led up from the Chamber of Darkness below

after taking their original obligation at the altar between the

paws of the Sphinx and after having performed certain ritesin the allegorical world of darkness depicted by the lower

chamber. They were then permitted to ascend the very narrow

and low passageway into which we looked and to enter the

Great Pyram id itself through this jagged opening. How pleasing

it must have been to them to know that they had attained that

degree of illumination and understanding and worthiness which

permitted them to travel further, physically, mentally and

spiritually!

So with the most solemn spirit and in utter silence we pro-

ceeded. The entire experience invited silence. Ordinary con-

versation and comments would have seemed so absurd, so

meaningless in contrast to the thought that was put into this

stupendous structure, the wealth of knowledge it represented, the

experience of those who had gone before us in this same place.

Finally, with gratitude, we came to a rest at a level stage. W alking along this level pathway, which was considerably

more narrow than the G ra nd Ga llery, we entered a portal >an

opening seemingly cut through a sheer block of limestone, of

about seven feet in height and three feet in width. Passing

through this we came into a large chamber known as the

Queen s Chamber, about twentyfive feet in length and sixteen

or twenty feet in width, with a comparatively low ceiling, abso-

lutely plain, no inscriptions, no symbolism, nothing to indicate

either the life or death of its builders.

It must be explained at this point that the prophecies of the

Great Pyramid are not based upon inscriptions found on tbe

walls or in papyrus scrolls, for there was practically nothing left

or found in the Great Pyramid to reveal anything of the times

of the Pyramid itself or of the future which the Pyramid prophe-

sies. The prognostications are based upon the dimensions andthe arrangement of the dimensions of the Great Pyramid, its

passageways, their height, length, and breadth, the height of



the Pyramid, length and breadth of the stones, the distances

from one passa geway to another. There is a numerical uni

formity to the dimensions, and this uniformity has given mathe-maticians, scientists and others a mathematical key, and with

this key the different proportions and mathematical arrange-

ments of the Great Pyramid have been used to reveal events of

the future. Th is is not merely speculative or fantastic, because

tbe events have definitely come to pass, one after another. It is

one more indication of the fact that the Great Pyramid was used

not only as a temple ol learning but as a monument of learning

to inform future generations of the knowledge of the basic sci-ences had by the mystery schools at that time.

Other facts are that the Pyramid is in the exact center of

the land surface of the earth; the fact that the weight of the

Pyramid is the same as the weight of the earth in proportion

to its size; and further, that it was used as an astronomical ob-

servatory, showing knowledge of astronomy. A n y engineer

knows that the builders of the Great Pyramid must have been

possessed of exceptional engineering skill and ingenuity to buildthe structure. Its great blocks of stone are perfectly mathe-

matically proportioned. Their ends are fitted together so per-

fectly and held by such a thin and yet exceptionally adhesive

mortar that not even a sheet of paper can be inserted between

them. They were hewn out so accurately that each block of stone

does not vary from a straight line and an accurate cube more

than a hundredth of an inch in a length of six feet.

After leaving the Queen s Chamber w e returned to the GrandGallery once again and continued our ascent for a few minutes

longer. Except for the feeble torchlike lights every fifteen or

twenty feet, fastened by metal brackets to the smooth stone sides

in recent times, the passageway would have been inky black.

Finally the uneven flooring, which really consists of stone blocks

of which the Pyramid itself is built, with niches to keep one from

slipping because of the steep incline, levelled out and a few feet

ahead of us it appeared as though the passageway with the



walls converging to a width of about four feet was blocked by

a huge stone, one of the masonry blocks upended. A s we approached it we noticed that (here had been carved through it

also a tunnellike passageway, the deeper shadow of the en-

trance not having been noticeable further back. 1 be height of

this tunnellike passageway was not sufficient to allow us to

walk erect and we were again obliged to craw l on hands and

knees. W e crawled a length of about sixteen feet, then stood

upright in a large chamber, the height of which was about

twelve or fourteen feet, length about thirty feet, width abouttwenty feet. This w as the King s Ch amber, known as the Hall

of Illumination. It, too w as perfectly bare of all furnishings,

inscriptions, hieroglyphics,^ in fact, everything with the excep-

tion that at the end opposite from which we entered was a large

sarcophagus of stone. 1 be sarcophagus, in fact, was one o f the

blocks of masonry of which the Great Pyramid is constructed,

and it was lying in a horizontal position in the center of the end

of the chamber. 1 he upper portion of the block had been sawed

or cut away, and the remainder had been hollowed out to con-

form to the general contour of the human body, and thus it

formed the sarcophagus or coffin of some pharaoh or eminent

person so relate the sagas. M an y believe it was the burial

place of the Pharaoh Cheops. However, there is nothing in the

sarcophagus at this time, nothing inscribed upon it that would

confirm this theory, and there never has been found anything

that would definitely establish the fact that the Great Pyramid

was built so lely as a burial place, with this tombroom as its

final purpose. One immediately gains the impression, which

supports legends that have come down through the ages as well

as the more recent discoveries of which we will speak later, that

this sarcophagus was used for initiation.

In this Hall of Illumination, this King’s Chamber, (here met

at intervals only the highest adepts and the most highly developed and learned of the members of this mystery school, this

early Egyptian Brotherhood of learning. It was in this King s



P R O P H E C Y D A Y I N T H E G R E A T P Y R A M I D 85

Chamber that the council meetings were held, where policies

were decided upon which shaped tbe course of many human

lives at that time. It was in this chamber that all the facts of

reality, all the knowledge which man had acquired by virtue

of experience and investigation, were classified and related and

made into an understandable, livable philosophy of life. In the

lower chambers the students were taught facts, the result of

inquiry and investigation, made to prove the laws, made to apply

them to their own lives, and as they learned these lessons they

advanced, degree by degree, chamber by chamber, until eventu-

ally they were permitted to share in the council meetings of the

Hall of Illumination, and from there they went forth in the world

to spread tbe knowlndge they had learned, to gather about them

other neophytes whom they sought out and to teach them as they

had been taught. A ll around this great temple of learning, this

Pyramid, at that time greed, fear, avarice, ignorance and super-

stition prevailed . These dual conditions have alw ays existed.

I he learned men of that time — those who had attained tbe

H all of Illumination .—could not go out among the multitudes

and immediately convert them to understanding. They would

only have lost their lives if they had attempted it, and nothing

would have been gamed.

So the real purpose of the Gre at Pyram id was kept secret. To

many at that time it was considered merely a place of worship

where mysterious religious rites took place, and tbe ambassadors

of light and wisdom of that period were forced to seek here and

there one who was ready or worthy to take the vows at the altar

between the paws of the Sphinx at a certain hour at night, and

then be led through the secret passageway — discovered in re-

cent time by Selim Hassan, eminent archaeologist, to have led

into the Great Pyramid itself.

W e stood about, none of us speaking, just thinking, each

within the world of his own thoughts trying to visualize what

had occurred in this very stone chamber, in this heart of a past

civilization centuries ago. There also flashed through our minds



the fact tfiat many occult and mystical organizations, so pro

claiming themselves, had prophesied a dire event for the world

upon this very day, September 16, 1936 . They had contended

that it meant, if not the end of the world, a serious catastrophe

which would shatter civilization; that it would mean the ruina-

tion of humanity, or perhaps the very atoms of the Great Pyra-

mid itself would fly asunder. W e recalled, all of us, to ourselves,

articles we had read within the last fortyeight hours in maga-

zines, in newspapers, setting forth these prophecies by leaders

of various sects and cults from every part of the world.

I recalled in particular some of the absurd articles I bad read

not more than a month ago in various magazines issued by

American and English occult societies, telling at length what

was to take place on this day. The authors even went so far

as to describe the King s Chamber, just what it would look like

at this time, as though something or other was going to change

the appearance of this H all of Illumination. Their description

was fantastic imagination of the weirdest sort. Not one article

that I had read accurately described the interior of these cham-

bers. W^hat the authors had written consisted of borrowed facts

from other writings, which they distorted in order not to disclose

that they had borrowed them. Each one of these schools of oc-

cultism professed to be perpetuating in some way or another

some of the ancient rites or teachings of the ancient mystery

schools of Egypt. Each also inferred that the world catastrophe which they told their readers was to occur on this day would not

affect the followers of their particular school or society, but rather

give them some power or influence withheld from others. I further

recalled reading an article by the leader of another occult society

who declared that his society had been waiting weeks, months

and years for this moment — it was the most sacred occasion

for them — yet neither his nor one of the other organizations had

a single representative within miles of the Great Pyramid on

this eventful day. T h e eyes of the world were on this Pyramid.



It gave me a sense of satisfaction that we had been chosen

as representatives of the Ancient, Mystical Order Rosae Crucis,

the authentic, worldwide Rosicrucian Order — the largest mys-tical order in the world with an authentic historical background,

and which had its traditional origin in this ancient land *—to be

present in this Hall of Illumination on this September 16, 1936.

W e were, for A M O R C , to see the fulfillment of a prophecy

of the Great Pyramid. A M O R C had long contended, based

upon its heritage of knowledge which included truth about the

prophecies of the Great Pyramid, that this was not to be a day

of disaster, ruination, and destruction, but the beginning of a world transition >— a new era. There would be cycles of evolu-

tion and devolution again, the world would again know war,

pestilence, poverty, and strife: but out of it all, within the next

century, would come the greatest sincere u nd erstanding between

nations and peoples — the greatest world unity civilization had

ever known. W h at greater faith could A M O R C display in its

ancient records than that we be here in this chamber, the very

soul of the Great Pyramid, at this fateful moment, when thou-sands, perhaps millions, elsewhere in other lands waited fear

fu ll y f or what? they did not know!

There was no feeling of depression, but a feeling of elation,

of intense excitement, like the minute of full before a great storm

when the boughs of trees are motionless, when not even a leaf

can be seen to move, when all nature seems in suspense, waiting

for a signal to release her fury. This suspense did not instil fear,

but rather expectancy that something stupendous of a Cosmic

nature was taking place, or would, shortly.

It was then that there was performed a ceremony that none

of us shall ever forget, and it was the first time that it had been

performed since the days of the activity of the Great Pyramid

itself — the time when the mystic brotherhoods held their regular

ceremonies in it. I assumed the office of Master of the Temple.

A s if in one of our modern Rosicrucian lodges throughout the

world, I directed by the motion of my hand where the others



should be stationed in tbe chamber. I was here for the first time,

in this incarnation at least, and fully cognizant of the import of

the moment. Yet, it was with a strange ease that I proceeded with the brief arrangements for the ceremony — this initiation >

for that is wh at it truly became to me. H ad I officiated here

before? H ad I been honored over 3000 years ago by being per-

mitted to induct some other fratres or sorores into the highest

degrees of the Order Rosae Crucis within these very stone walls?

Had I once before been an instrument in this chamber, by which

another attained the highest state of Illumination — Cosm ic

Consciousness? Perhaps I sensed a time in centuries past whenmy own eyes, for the first time, were permitted to rest upon (lie

walls of this Sanctum Sanctorum. A s I looked about me, I

realized that the great stone blocks before, back, beneath, and

above me were unchanged. Th e eyes of hundreds of ancient

neophytes who struggled to attain, who studied and labored,

and who evolved mentally and spiritually, had received identical

visual impressions to mine in this chamber, for time had not

altered its physical appearance. From where I stood the cen-

turies fell away . There was nothing more here to suggest the

Twentieth Century than the Eighteenth, the First, or one 2000

B. C . A candidate of 1350 B. C . during the reign of our Illustri-

ous Grand Master, Amenhotep IV, standing where I now stood,

thirty centuries ago, would have been occupied with about the

same thoughts as mine as he looked about. There was nothing

here to suggest the era or the events occurring outside of this

mass of masonry. Myriads of changes in civilization had taken

place since these chambers first assumed their form, yet they

still reflected the concept of their creators, resisting the influences

of nature and man. Here, then, was a timeless, eternal environ-

ment in which all men found themselves in a like state of con-

sciousness, regardless of temporal changes. A Hall of Illumina-

tion it truly was, for in the state of Cosmic Consciousness, which

it depicted, all other things drop away or are absorbed as one.



I next directed that each of us assume the symbolic positions

of forming a Rosicrucian Lodge. Th is w as accomplished by the

manner in which we placed our hands in relation to our bodiesand the position of our feet. W e offered a silent prayer to the

Cosmic, and then, in accordance with the timehonored Rosi-

crucian ritual performed here in ancient times, Frater Brower

stepped forward for the intonation of the mystic vibratory vowel

sounds. Standing with his back to the center of the great sar-

cophagus, symbol of earthly transition, he proceeded to intone

the sacred vowels, the vibrations of which have a definite effect

upon the emotional and psychic natures of man. The vibrations

under ordinary circumstances are intended to, and do, excite

these centers of man’s sympathetic nervous system and have a

tendency to elevate his consciousness, to exhilarate him, tran-

scend him above the ordinary mundane feelings and sensations

which he experiences daily. But none of us expected the result.

W re heard, not alone Frater Brower s intonations, but it seemed

the chorus of a million voices besides. W ith the very utteranceof the first vowel it seemed as though he had struck a key which

unlocked voices that had been imprisoned in stone for centuries

awaiting a magic word or tone for release, and the sounds came

back to us from the walls and the floor and the ceiling like a

chorus of cries of freedom, as though we had liberated im-

prisoned beings. It was startling. He continued the vow el

sounds for a period of at least five minutes. W re seemed to

sway. W e lost sense of time and space. W e were swept along

with this strange current of psychic emotionalism, and it seemed

that for several minutes (it must have been just seconds) after he

ceased his intonation the sounds continued to reverberate from

wall, ceiling and floor. Then all was quiet; the silence was

deeper and more obvious by contrast than it bad been before.

Wê felt rejuvenated. Fatigue from the ascent was gone. A ny

fear that any of us may have had with respect to the stories of what was to occur in the G reat Pyramid seemed absurd to us

now. W e felt secure, and a sense of contentment and peace



came over us as though, unwittingly, we had accomplished a

great good, which we may come to realize in this lifetime or

we may not.

Our guide was waiting for us outside the low circular pas-

sag eway. A s w e started through it, he begged me to stop in

the middle of the passageway in my crouched position until

he crawled through, reaching me. W e could not pass each

other. He looked into my face from this position on his hands

and knees and said, "A t this particular point where you are

you can sa fe ly arise and stand erect.’ I twisted my head into

a position so that I could look above, and there to my surprise

immediately above me was a small shaft just large enough to

accommodate my body. I moved into position so that as I arose

the upper portion of my body would rise into the shaft over

head. It was inky black, because I could not then see the light

of the circular passagew ay in which I stood. It was as though

I had a hood of stone over my head. He said. Reach above

you witb your right hand as fa r as you can.” I brought my right

hand up close to my body until I eventually stretched it far

above my head. He said, Now place your hand against the

stone wall immediately in front of you. I his I did. He con-

tinued, Now , move your hand until you feel a projection of

stone, about the size of your hand.” I moved my hand slowly

against the cold, smooth, stone surface until it struck against an

oblong projection. He said, Place your hand upon it. I did.

I noticed that it fitted my hand as though it had been shaped

to be held in a closed hand like something that was intended

to be carried by the hand. I pulled against it to see if it was

loose. I commented on this. He explained. W h at you feel

has been shaped out of the stone block of which it is a part.

The block has been cut aw ay from the raised portion. You r

hand now rests on the exact center of the Great Pyramid. It is

the mathematical center. The distance from the point of your

hand to the apex of the Pyramid and to the base and to the

various sides is exactly the same. Furthermore, you are now



grasping what is known as the Pyramidal inch. I hat stone,

that particular size, was the unit of measurement used by the

Egyptians in building this very edifice, and to commemoratethat unit of measurement it was carved on tbe side of one of

tbe blocks of the Pyramid and placed in the exact center where

it now rests.

W h at master mathematicians, what genius in a time and an

age when the world likes to think of mankind having dwelt in

utter ignorance! W ith a feeling akin to reverence, I rejoined

the party, and soon we had left the coolness of the Great Pyra-

mid with its constant temperature of 68 degrees Farenheit for

the now blistering desert outside. This temperature oi the Great

Pyramid is what is recommended by air conditioning engineers

today as the ideal temperature for human comfort. Is it coinci-

dence or did the genius of the Pyramid builders foresee it !

The party then returned to Cairo with tbe exception of Frater

Brower and myself. W e proceeded to locate one of the huge

exterior blocks of stone of the Pyramid, in the shade, and there we sat and ate our lunch overlooking the plateau of the Sahara

Desert and the green Nile and Delta; also looking down toward

the mud huts on the site of the old city of Gizeh.

Early in the afternoon we sought out the recent excavations

of that eminent archaeologist, Selim Hassan . W e climbed down

and through the Pyramid Temple. This Temple was quite some

distance from the Great Pyramid itself, and originally was con-nected with it by a long ramp or causeway. M an y preliminary

ceremonies were held in this Temple, and then from there the

participants, candidates, and neophytes, in a picturesaue pro-

cession walked along these ramps and causeways to the Great

Pyramid and concluded their rites. Just recently, in this Pyramid

Temple, there was excavated the sarcophagus and mummy of

a princess, a daughter of Cheops. Wê photographed hundreds

of feet of film of the more recent excavations of the Sphinx,showing how tbe paws were not hewn out of a promontory of

stone as is tbe upper portion of tbe body, but consisted of flat



stones about four inches in thickness, laid one upon the other,

forming layers, and then shaped as we now see them. W e

commented upon the great crime committed by Napoleon whenhe ordered his men to fire upon the Sphinx, defacing it, to show

his disrespect for the Egyptians veneration of it.

After filming with professional cameras, by special permission

from the Egyptian government, many other structures in and

around the Great Pyramid, we went closer to examine and

photograph with still camera the colonnaded court or entrance

to a newly excavated temple, at the base of the Pyram id. O f a

different type stone than the Pyramid itself, it seemed marble-

like against the background. W e commented upon the fact

that this very ancient structure had Doriclike columns, the archi-

tectural form credited to the much later Grecian period. Wê

were to discover, however, that the Egyptians used this type of

column quite commonly, and it is still believed by some archae-

ologists that there is no connection between tbe Doric column

and the column to which we have referred.It was late in the day when we prepared for our return. W e

departed by camels to where the roads began and again loaded

our equipment into a modern motor car. W e looked up at the

Great Pyramid. It had changed. It was now colorful. The

setting sun had given it a golden glow. Its ragged contour,

caused by the exposed blocks of masonry, cast patches of deep

shadow, purple in hue. The shadows seemed to be creeping

from the desert itself, rapidly approaching, soon to engulf it

in darkness.

W e retired to our hotel early, for tomorrow the Nile was to

reveal another chapter of civilization s tale. Eac h mile almost,

as one travels along that great river, one has unfolded to him a

story of man’s past accomplishments, glory, power, failure,

hopes and misfortunes. Therefore we now looked forward to

Luxor, or the ancient city of Thebes, once glorious capital of Egypt when in all her power and splendor.



T E M P L E S A N D T O M B S

I MAD, in my semiconscious state of h a l f sleep, a sensation of

choking. It was undoubtedly this laborious breathing, with the

addition of stifling beat, that awakened me at an early hour. I

lay still for a moment trying to swallow; my mouth was parched,

and a deep inhalation made me sneeze. Th e compartment was

filled with fine dust. I could feel it in my ears and on my hands.Kicking off tbe remaining cover, I sat up and, leaning for-

ward , raised the blind at the window. The sight (hat greeted

my eyes made me forget the discomfort of an Egyptian train

in the late summer. Pa ralleling the track, one hundred yards

distant, was a twisting brown ribbon of water. Bowing grace-

fully on either side of it were palms, bending far over the em-

bankment as if admiring their beauty in the water below. B e -

yond, the sand stretched into the distance and finally disap-

peared at the horizon into the rosy radiance of the morning sun.

It was a scene that would tax your credence if it were upon

canvas. Egypt was beautiful in a wild sort of way. Its beauty

lay in its extremes; there was no attempt at compromise. Ea ch

element gave vent to its powers, and the aggregate was the

majestic splendor of uncontrolled nature.

A s we rushed and sw ayed along, eddies of air sprayed the

windowpane with sand, which clung for a few seconds and

then dropped aw ay revealing new charming vistas. Beautiful

islets dotted the center of the Nile, crowded to the water’s edge

with tall palm trees. W ater buffalo looked lazily up at us as

the river lapped at the ridges of their backs; and little naked

brown skinned boys pulled at ropes fastened to tbe animals'

nostrils. Little girls stopped in their tracks and, turning, un-

consciously posed with earthen waterjars on their heads, to

stare with mingled expressions of curiosity and perplexity at



this modern invader of the land of their ancestors — ancestors

of which we, from another land, knew more than they.

On either side of this road of steel upon which we traveled,

the scene was little changed from the time the pharaohs had

thundered over the same sands in chariots, or haughtily surveyed

them from royal barges which were leisurely propelled along

the Nile. W h at little inroad the centuries had made —<the

progress of five thousand years was symbolized and embodied

in this metallic, speeding serpent this Ca irotoA swan E x -

press. Like a single thread of different color in a great fabric,it was noticeable, but other than that, there was little effect upon

the surroundings. The de luxe trains of Eg vp t are as yet un-

touched by such improvements or embellishments as aircondi-

tioning, icewater, or club cars. You either remain confined to

your own redplush, heavilylaced, and French mirrored com-

partment, or stand swaying in the narrow aisle outside. It was

with welcome relief that we arrived at Luxor.

The platform of the Luxor depot paralleled the train for only the length of one car. If you were fortunate, you stepped from

this one car onto brick surface; otherwise, into the soft, powdered

dust of the ground. Each step, no matter how easily taken, sent

a puff of the flourlike substance over shoes and trouser legs.

W e had become accustomed to being besieged by dragomen

(guid es) and natives in soiled, long, flowing robes with bare feet

and shaved heads, who wished to carry luggage or perform

some actual or imaginary service for bakshish (money). A t first

the pitiful state of their appearance — which was often height-

ened by their dramatic gestures and poses — had invoked our

sympathy, and as an act of charity we would engage a retinue

of boys” from six to sixty to do trivial or unnecessary things

for us. Tim e, and the experience of having our generosity taken

advantage of, had hardened us, and we coursed through the

group around us, saying, Imshil Imshi (Bego ne l).” Wê were escorted to a row of four or five waiting, dilapidated,

singlehorse and teamdrawn surreys. It was not the state of



tke conveyances that attracted our attention, but tbe wretched

condition of tbe animals themselves. They were a greater evi-

dence of the poverty and deplorable state of welfare of theEgyptian fellah than his own personal appearance, l l i e horses

were not all aged, but were mere frames, covered with tightly

draw n flesh. The whole skeletal structure was, it seemed to us,

visible. Most of the unfortunate beasts suffered from mange,

and large areas of their bodies contained cankerous sores over

which the large, leechlike flies of Upper Egypt hovered. The

spirit of dejection of the animals was contagious, and it was

several minutes before we felt inclined to comment on our sur-roundings.

A fter riding for a fe w minutes, we stopped before a high

stucco wall in which there was a large arched portal. W e liter-

ally had to push our way through a throng of mendicants and

peddlers of scarabs, necklaces, beads, counterfeit amulets, and

relics. Once having passed through the gateway, we were free,

for apparently a well established law or custom exacting some

severe penalty of which we were not aware, forbade them toenter. W e were in a charming garden and grove. Ta ll, stately

palms, grouped closely, cast a pleasing shade. Stran ge foliage

offered relief from the glaring white of the sandy road outside.

W e recalled the story of "The Garden of A llah ,” the site of

which existed but a scant mile from where we were. The ground

was moist, having been watered recently. The hotel hallways

were like those one imagined the hostelries of tbe tropics woulH

have — irregulartiled floors and glazedtile walls, with excep -tionally high, white plastered ceilings. The crepuscular light-

ing made them invitingly cool. Behind us a native attendant

glided silently. Th e manner in which he appeared suddenly,

seemingly out of nowhere, and almost anticipating our needs in

advance , was uncanny. In contrast to the natives of tbe village

— and those who waited outside the courtyard below — these

attendants were immaculately groomed and spoke excellent Eng-

lish. Their pay, though a paltry sum, exceeded by far that of



their less fortunate brothers, and they were envied. The heavy,

white flynetting which was suspended over the beds, and the

large balcony in each room, from which one could look over the

gardens below, gave ample suggestion of insects and heat to be

endured here at this season, both day and night.

Our first duty was to obtain the necessary permits to take pro-

fessional cinema photographs of the monuments. ( The Monu-

ments is the official term given to all ancient ruins now super-

vised by the Department of Antiquities in Egypt.) The one who

held supreme authority here was the Inspector of Antiquitiesof Up per Egypt —La bib Habachi. After a brief respite, we

drove to his office.—a low, onestory, gray stoneandstucco

building, exceedingly quaint, surrounded by a spacious garden

in whicb stood statuary, busts of Egyptian figures of different

dynasties. They, of course, immediately aroused our interest.

This personal office consisted of a randomsizedplank floor,

bigh ceiling, and I rench windows. A t the opposite end from which we entered, seated behind a wellworn, flattopped desk,

and framed by bookcases, facing us, sat Inspector Labib

Habachi. He w as a surprisingly young man, in his late twenties,

medium hei ght, closecropped black, curly hair, deepset, dreamy

eyes; and the heavy, darkrimmed glasses he wore gave him

the look of a scholar — which we found him to be. He was so

different from the others we had met that in our minds we

likened him to tbe ancient Egyptian nobility, or tbe scribes of tbe past. Lying open before him were text books on Egyptian

hieroglyphs and archaeology, and apparently he bad been

identifying inscriptions on small bronze statuettes which stood

before him on the desk when we entered.

He was exceedingly gracious, and spoke in the soft, mild voice

of the cultured Egyptian. He was a graduate of the University

of Cairo, spoke several languages fluently, and was specializingin the study of archaeology, which made it possible for him to

bold his present responsible position. It was, however, more



than a professional interest; this one could easily ascertain from

fiis conversation, for ke had a deep reverence for the achieve-

ments of His ancient progenitors.

W hen he learned that we, too, had a love for the accomplish-

ments of past great Egyptian personalities, and were not there

to exploit his country, but to make her former glories known

throughout North America by means of motion pictures we

hoped to take, be was exceedingly congenial. He spent nearly

an hour in comparing for us certain bieroglypbics with the later

Hieratic or Demotic writing. In addition to bis studies, he bad,

fortunately, the hobby of photography, but he was just a be-

ginner, and tbe science of photography was still quite a mystery

to him. Our complex equipment interested bim immensely. He

had apparently never before had the opportunity to examine

sound cinema apparatus. This interest made bim, after a care-

ful examination of our credentials, enthusiastic in bis desire to

obtain from bis superiors in Cairo the permits which we needed.

After the custom of an Egyptian host, he had us served withcold lemonade by one of his slippered attendants. W^hen we

left, be bade us return early in the morning to learn whether he

had received a telegraphic order to issue the coveted permit.

1 he following' morning we were presumptuous enough to have

our guide instruct the native porters to load our cinema equip-

ment in the oldmodel American automobile which was to serve

as our conveyance to the Inspector s house. W e hoped the per-

mission had arrived, and if so, we were prepared to proceedimmediately. The morning light was best for photography, a f-

fording more contrast than the glaring midday sunlight. Inspec-

tor Habachi met us in the courtyard and, smiling, said in a

quiet manner, ' Your wish has been granted. The Minister of

Antiquities, my superior in Cairo , has granted you permission

to photograph all the monuments with your cinema equipment.

I have here the official permit. Wê gratefully accepted it and

our spirits were jubilant.



Turning to Frater Brow er, Inspector Habachi said, I ask of

you one personal favor. M ay I accompany you on your expedi-

tion? I feel I could profit by watching you operate your equip-

ment and in turn I may be useful in explaining more thoroughly

the monuments to you and reading different inscriptions which

have not been generally translated.

W e were elated, and gladly accepted this most satisfactory

arrangement.

Tbe present city of Luxor is located on the East side of the

Nile. Eastw ard, looking toward the horizon, one sees the dis-

tant Arab ian desert, and beyond lies the Red Sea . W estw ard ,one looks toward a range of limestone mountains — the mys-

terious and famed Valley of the Kings. W he re are now located

the city of Luxor and the temples of Luxor and Karnak, there

was once the major portion of the great city of Thebes, the former

capital of the great empire. Th e city of 1 hebes also spread over

the Wêst bank of the Nile.

Our first site to be photographed was the mammoth Karnak

Tem ple, which beggars description. The actual significance of the word, Karnak, is not definitely known; it is said the literal

translation means windows.’ Th is splendid edifice was built

from the wealth accumulated from the early Egyptian campaigns

in Asia . The entire length of tbe Tem ple — or shall w e say,

series of temples — is a quarter of a mile, and it took some two

thousand years to complete construction. Th e oldest portions of

it were begun by the early kings of the feudal age of Egypt.

Later portions were completed by the Greek kings, or thePtolemies. The first Ptolemy was a former general in the army

of Alexander the Great. Originally, the entire structures were

done in magnificent colors and gold. They were the most beauti-

ful and decorative of all the architectural works of ancient man.

In the center of one of the temples stands the enormous obelisk

of Egypt s most famous queen, Hatshepsut. Its size can better

be realized by the fact that its base is eight and a half feet thick.



The most impressive edifice of this collection of edifices is the

great colonnaded hall or Hypostyle. This hall is 338 feet wide

and 170 feet deep. Each one of the enormous columns rises toa height of 69 feet; and the capitals of the columns, which are

ornamented after the shape of the lotus flower, are sufficiently

large to accommodate on their tops, 100 men standing in close

formation. The entire floor area of this colonnaded hall is equal

to that of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. 1 he center

aisle, or nave, consists of twelve columns in two rows, seventy

nine feet in height. They rise slightly higher than the rows of columns of the aisles on either side and thus really form the first

clerestory which was finally incorporated as part of the later

Greek basilica, and which style comes down to us in our Gothic

church architecture of today. Th is clerestory', by rising higher

than the walls on either side of it, permits light to enter through

the elevated sides and thus enter the lower halls.

The walls around this colonnaded hall are deeply etched with

inscriptions and reliefs dealing with the early campaigns and

wars of the past kings and pharaohs. Here, cut out of mammoth

stone blocks, weighing from eighty to a thousand tons, are colos-

sal portraits of these rulers of a past civilization. It would be a

considerable engineering task today to quarry in one piece such

enormous blocks, and to move them from tbe quarry, intact, to

the place of their erection. One is forced again to admire the

skill and ability of these ancient builders.

A s we stood at one end of the nave of this great temple and

looked upward, we saw, high above our heads, at the opposite

end, a stone lattice window — the only remaining one of several

windows which originally surrounded that portion of the nave

which rose above the halls on either side of it; and it is believed

that from these windows or grills the temple gained its name

of Karnak. W e profited greatly by the detailed descriptions and explana-

tions of our eminent companion, Inspector Habachi, and were



able to make many notes to incorporate in tbe dialogue of tbe

motionpicture wbicb at tbis time is being edited for exposition

purposes. Furtbermore, we were permitted to set up our equip-

ment in, and enter, p laces — inner sanctuaries of tbis Karnak

Temple — usually forbidden tbe average visitor or traveler.

W itb tbe passing of eacb bour, tbe beat increased. Tbe tem-

perature rose to nearly 120 degrees Fahrenheit; and our native

porters wbom we bad engaged to carry our equipment luggage

were reluctant to continue, as it is tbeir custom to take a siesta

from noon until four in tbe afternoon. O ur time was limited;

we were allowed just one week; and so we bad to disappointtbem and oblige tbem to continue.

W e entered tbe beautiful little temple of Thutmose III, who

was related to tbe early foundation of the Rosicrucian Order.

I here, outside of the portal, in pure white, in contrast to the

gray stone columns and pylons about it, was the little altar of

tbis early mystery school. It seemed like a dream — so quiet, so

peaceful, so sturdy, and yet representing a people and a time of

thousands of years ago. It did not seem possible that somethingconstructed so long ago could be in such a perfect state of preser-

vation. In this ideal climate of Egypt, where rain falls every

thirty or forty years (which makes of the land a warehouse kept

at a constant temperature, free from moisture) all antiquities will

remain in an excellent state of preservation perhaps for centuries

to come. Approximately 1,000 feet of film were ground out

within this edifice alone. Wê reluctantly returned to our hotel,

but were assured that we would find additional splendor in

Luxor Temple on the morrow.

1 he next morning at the same hour we were once ag ain ac-

companied by Inspector Habachi. and went immediately to

Luxor Temple, also known as E l Aksur, or the castles. The

length of Luxor Temple, from front to back, is three hundred

yards, and it w as built mainly under the direction of that famous

builder. Amenhotep III. During tbe campaigns of Alexander,





one might say, the religion of the people — to lift them boldly

from their superstition and ignorance to a higher and loftier

plane — who incurred the hatred of the priesthood by these acts,and who brought about the ruination of his power.

A n entire day was spent at Luxor Tem ple —<an insignificant

period to appreciate properly its history or even to attempt a

careful study of its architecture and any portion of its inscrip-

tions, but sufficient time, with the ideal lighting Egypt affords,

for considerable photography.

Leaving Luxor Temple, we turned again to look Westward.

Ever since our arrival, we seemed to have been drawn to thosepurple hills, rugged cliffs across the Nile. Although they were

foreboding in appearance, we always felt a strange fascination

for them as the sun set behind their crowns. Tomorrow, we

would succumb to this magnetic attraction an d cross the N ile

to them.



Chapter VII

T H E V A L L E Y O F T H E K IN G S

B y A R R A N G E M E N T , early in tke morning we met tke Inspector,

our dragoman, and porters on tke bank of tke Nile. W e were

fascinated by tbe quaint little boats witb tbeir patched sails, and

tbeir oneman crews, fighting the tide trying to reach a point

directly opposite on tbe other shore. W e watched patient littleburros tread along the bank, laden with bales or crates, wits

masters who either walked along in front, or behind, tapping

them on their flanks with a stick to keep their pace constant.

Groups of native women sat in little circles on the road edge,

waiting for the return of someone patient, impervious to sun,

flies, and insects. Their faces were covered, with the exception

of their eyes. Most of them, unfortunately, had diseased eyes,

due to the water in w hich they wash — when they do <—■and

due to infection and lack of knowledge of sanitation and hygiene.

Finally we climbed aboard our frail craft with our equipment,

and started across the Nile from a point where for centuries the

Egyptians had crossed. A s we were swept along, there came

to our minds the legends of the great ancient funeral processions

which had crossed this same body of water. From the East bank

of the Nile — the city of the living, because the sun rose with itslifegiving rays in the East they floated across, on great

decorated barges with the sarcophagus of the departed, always

at dusk, representing the closing of life and the crossing from

this world of the living to the world of thedead. Th e W est

side of the Nile, therefore, or the city which existed there at that

time, was called the City of the Dead, because it was in the

W est where the sun set at the close of day, and where dark-

ness came.It must have been a magnificent ceremony. Wê could imagine

the chanting, the sound of strains ol music on tbe river. In our



minds we could hear the wailing of bereavement. W e could

mentally see tbe unloading of (be sarcophagus see it being

carried on backs and shoulders of great Nubian slaves. W e

could see priests in ornamental costumes, bedecked witb jewelry,

emblems of their office, marching two abreast ahead, swaying

from side lo side in time witb tbe rhythm ol chanting and music.

Behind came tbe military escort, tbe members of tbe court and

the family ol the departed. Beh ind tbem came, piled high on

the backs of personal slaves, tbe intimate belongings of the de-

parted — great alabaster chests inlaid with ivory, handbeaten

gold masks and vessels, gems, rare woods, frankincense, pottery,

beautiful tiles, magnificent furniture, handcarved, showing

great skill and craftsmanship. The procession would wend its

way into tbe bills that became the tombs ol tbe great — of the

kings of the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth dynasties.

Our musing soon ended as our boat slid alongside tbe crude

landing. W e loaded our equipment into a ramshackle car to

be driven over a rough, ungraded road as far as possible, and

from there to be packed on the backs of our porters. W e startedthrough this little va lley with its towering limestone cliffs. Here

were buried the Theban kings — some fortyone of their tombs

have now been located. W e eventually entered various ones,

going down their long, sloping passageways or ramps, observ-

ing painted on tbe walls the original diagrams showing the plan

of construction. Wê learned that these plans were quite fre-

quently deceptive, intended to mislead any vandals who mi ght

break into the tomb, as to its real arrangement. Treasure rooms were usually sealed in such a manner that it would take con-

siderable investigation to locate them. W hen our torches were

temporarily extinguished for a moment, and we realized the inky

blackness of these underground chapels and mortuaries, the sen-

sation was real.

On the walls were prayers in adoration of the gods, also in-

scriptions from the rituals which the deceased would have to



perform in the afterworld. There still remained some of the

great stone sarcophagi or coffins from which the mummified re-

mains had been recently removed, or which were empty whenrecently excavated. Th ese tombs of kings were not as interesting

historically, nor did they contribute as mucb to our knowledge

of the times and of the people and their customs, as the tombs

of the lords or noblemen. The inscriptions and hieroglyphics on

the walls of these tombs of tbe kings were mostly concerned

with tbeir personal accomplishments, and selfaggrandizement,

and with phrases from the great Book of the Dead, a book

containing the rituals and ceremonies of the afterlife. However, we did film the tombs of Rameses III, Seti II, and the one of

the renowned King Tutankhamen, and others. I be heat was

unbearable to us who were not accustomed to it. I he only shade

was that afforded by the interior of tbe tombs themselves. The

cliffs were barren, rugged, ghastly. They suggested another

world — a world of the dead. They were used principally be-

cause they were the only stone hills in the immediate vicinity

which would afford construction material for tombs.

W e went, then, after a few minutes journey, to the tombs

of the nobles — that class of individuals who sprang up during

the feudal age of Egypt and became wealthy and powerful, and

who rivaled the power of tbe kings. They owned great estates,

worked by both freemen and slaves, and built luxurious palace

homes with mosaic floors depicting the cool waters of tbe Nile,

and tbe green grasses which grow about it. The wa 11s were

ornamented with paintings of water fowl common at the time.

These nobles enjoyed all the luxuries which the time afforded —

beautiful furniture, tapestries, fruits, wines and vegetables —<

many of which we have inherited, such as romaine salad won

derf ul jewelry made of gold and rare stones. They bad great

crops of grain, and skilled workmen, basket makers, cabinet

makers, metal workers. These craftsmen had tools of bronze

— saws, hammers, and many implements similar to those weemploy today.



On the walls of the tombs of these nobles, painted in vivid

colors — startlingly vivid to us, for it seemed almost unbelieve

able that the colors could be so bright after the centuries thathad passed over them — were incidents in the lives of the people

of the estates. Thus we know bow they were employed, what

they did. There are scenes showing the gathering of grain,

showing the scribe recording the bushels. Scenes showing the

crushing of the grapes, and making of wine. Others show the

tilling of fields with ploughs; and we see in these first ploughs

used a similarity to ours of today. Th e Egyptians of tbis period

had gone beyond hoeculture and had developed agriculture. W e see irrigation canals, the first in the world. W e see the

chariot makers; we note the fishermen preparing to set out with

their nets. W e note the intimate family life of the noble. Here

he is entertaining guests, with children playing in the same room

at a game that resembles our draughts or checkers. W e observe

that the noble had but one wife, whom he respected and who

shared equally with him all of his powers, privileges, and

property rights. Here, on the walls of these tombs, history isunfolded.

W e then visited splendid DerEIBahri, or the mortuary

temple of Queen Hatshepsut. This great tombtemple, now

being restored to its original condition as nearly as possible, was

built for Hatshepsut by her architect and vizier, Hapuseneb.

Considerable enmity and jealousy existed in later life between

her King husband and herself. It is related that he was enviousof his wife s power in the Egyptian empire. A nd later, when she

died, he ordered her cartouche or signature eradicated from the

great obelisks which she had erected during her time.

On either side of the great ramp which leads to the outer

courtyard of this templetomb we saw what seems to be just

a great, dry root protruding from the sand of the desert. These

two roots are all that is left of two great trees which were once

on either side of that ramp and which had been imported from



far up the Nile, from equatorial Africa, by emissaries of tbe

queen so that sbe migbt bave shade. It is also said, tbat where

now there is naught but desert surrounding this templetomb.there were once flourishing gardens. 1 he tomb itself is deep in

the face of the cliff which is immediately behind the temple.

Our journey next brought us to the temple of Medinet Habu.

which was built to the god, Amon. 1 hough mammoth in size,

with gigantic columns and pylons, it reveals a decadence in ar-

chitecture. The reliefs tell of the great cam paigns of the

pharaoh; show bis naval battles; we see his mercenaries or hired

soldiers capturing the revolting subjects of the countries whi chcomprised his empire; we study the weapons they used ^ spears.

T E M P LE T O M B O F Q U E E N H A T S H E P S U T

In the aweinspiring Valley of the Queens, surrounded by ageold,

gnarled, and worn cliffs, is this temple and tomb of Egypt s most power-

ful Queen, Hatshepsut, wife of Amenhotep III.{Pkoto f>y AMORC)



shields, swords, armor; we exam ine the type of war galleys. The

architecture is decadent in comparison with that of other temples

we have seen because there is no uniformity of design. One

finds square columns, short, ill proportioned ones, others tall

and graceful, with capitals of different design, some plain, others

highly ornamented.

Climbing to the top of a great pylon through a narrow stone

passageway, we had an excellent view of the plain around it,

and the Nile a mile or two distant. W her e we stood, some

seventyfive feet above the ground, had stood the defending

warriors many times before, hurling stones or spears at the at-

tacking invaders below.

W e left Medinet Habu, and finally the Valley of the Kings,

to admire — at a distance of some several hundred yards — the

Colossi of Memnon. These enormous statues were erected by

Amenhotep III as an outer gateway to a great temple which is

no longer in existence. They were surrounded by water as the

land around them was inundated by the rising Nile. It made a

thrilling picture, for the clear, still water reflected their mysterious

images. Completing a full day, we returned again to Luxor,

but on the following day went back for further detailed photo-

graphing, as our first trip was only sufficient for us to plot out

those sections or portions of all the things we saw which we be-

lieved to be the most impressive and which would convey, to

future audiences who would see our films, a better impression

of the greatness of that which we had the privilege of seeing

personally.

It was while crossing the Nile after our second day on the

W ’est bank that Habachi said to us suddenly, 1 believe I can

arrange to have you film with your cinema, for the first time, an

interesting demonstration which I feel will prove of interest to

your friends and your countrymen.

W e asked him what it was, and he stated, I cannot com-

ment more freely at this time, for I must inquire further before



I can be certain. But if you will come to my office early tomor-

row morning, I will be prepared to tell you more, I am sure.

His way of arousing our interest to a certain point and tben

telling us no more was exciting, and the following morning found

us early at Iiis office. W e did not know what to expect, because

for the last few days he had given us entree into tombs whi ch

were ordinarily locked and barred to the public; he had ordered

attendants and guards to make available to us places which

are recorded only in historical texts and have never before been

photographed for public examination; so we felt this would truly be something unusual.

Habachi began, There is an Egyptian by the title and name

of Sheikh MoussaEIHawi, who has an unusual power ol sens-

ing or detecting by smell and other means — perhaps you will

call them mystic — the presence of venomous snakes and insects.

He also has the means of subduing these snakes, making them

docile, although at times I understand he has been bitten by them, and in fact has lost his two sons who inherited his power

of detecting snakes; they were seriously bitten.

Immediately there flashed into our minds the accounts that

had been published of this individual in American magazines at

different times, though of course we had never seen a picture of

him and no picture had ever been published of him. I asked,

He will perform for us? He said. Yes, gladly, as a courtesy

to me." “ W h en? we chorused, and he replied. He awaits in

the courtyard and will accompany you to wherever you wish.

I asked if the demonstration could be delayed for a few

minutes while? we rushed to the hotel to obtain the balance of

our party — Frater and Soror Harry L. Shibley and Soror Lewis.

He consented, and in a few minutes we returned, breathless, for

the demonstration. Naturally we wanted to assure ourselves

that this was to be a genuine demonstration and not the trickery

common among snake charmers in the Orient. Habachi said,

He is not a snake charmer; he has no snakes with him. He



will gladly remove all kis garments for your inspection and ex-

amination. And , in fact, ke did remove all kis garments except

kis loin clotk to assure us none were concealed on kis person.Habacki continued. He will go wkerever you wisk , to call

out tkese snakes, so tkat you may be certain tkat ke kas not by

any prearrangement placed snakes in places wkere ke would

recommend tkat tke demonstration be keld.”

Tk is was fair enougk. Tk ere could be no trickery under suck

arrangements. W e suggested, therefore, tke interior of Lu xor

Temple. W re all accompanied Skeikk Mou ssaEIH awi to

Luxor Temple. He was a strange individual; kis very presencecaused one to skiver, to kave a frigid feeling along tke spine.

His eyes were like a reptile s, piercing and black. His face was

strange, sligktly distorted; kis clotkes kad a peculiar odor. He

looked neitker to rigkt nor to left, nor even at tke ground before

kirn as ke walked akead of us. Suddenly ke stopped and said

in broken English, to no one in particular but audible to all of

us, 1 shall now, witk your consent, proceed.”

Frater Brow er asked Inspector Habacki, ‘W ill tke snakes and

insects wkick ke calls out from tke debris of tke ruins be witkin

ten, twentyfive, or fifty feet of us as we wisk to know just exactly

wkere to set up our cameras? W e kad tkree cameras to record

tke incident — a professional cinema, a Graphlex still camera,

and anotker.

Habachi spoke to him in Arabic, and then said to us in Eng-

lish, He says he knows there is a scorpion right near him and

a cobra not far distant.”

Moussa, tilting his head backward and sniffing the air as a

bloodhound would, apparently caught the scent, as he called it,

of what he was searching for, and then he broke out in the

weirdest chant I ever heard — a chant in Arabic , starting slowly

with deep intonation, and increasing in rapidity and pitch till it

eventually reached a frenzied shrill tone; repeating again and

again. The man was obviously working himself into some sort



of emotional state. A t the height of this frenzy, and after walk-

ing about in circles from ten to twenty feet distant from us, he

suddenly stopped before one of the rocks at his feet, reacheddown, rolled up his sleeve, baring his arm. tugged at the rock,

tbrew it backward, and reaching in the cavity it had made sud-

denly brought forth a hideous goldencolored scorpion. He held

the scorpion in his hand so that it was visible to us and easily

photographed. W e noticed that it was continually striking at

him with its barbed appendage. W^hen it pricked the flesh of

his finger, he would wince at the pain, but showed little or no

concern otherwise. A t first this was repulsive to all of us, and yet it was so awesome and fascinating that we could not turn

from his further demonstrations.

Returning the scorpion to its place, he then walked ahead for

perhaps thirtyfive or forty feet. Wê followed him. Suddenly

he stopped and again went through the peculiar gesture of de-

tecting some strange scent, and also broke forth with his incanta-

tion. Frater Brower, with my aid, hurriedly again set up the

cinema equipment.

Habachi turned to us and stated, Th is time it is a cobra.

How, I whispered, do you know ?

He stated, His chant is different.

W h at is this strange incantation?’ I asked. Habach i said

he was calling these serpents, as representatives of Satanical

power, in the name of Allah, to expose themselves, to come

forth —<that a greater power than they was giving the command.

Finally he stepped over to a little embankment. W e noticed the

embankment was pockmarked with holes. Rolling up the sleeve

of his robe again, he plunged his bared arm down one of these

holes to the depth of his elbow. He was apparently struggling

with something. I turned to Habachi with a quizzical look on

my face. Anticipating my question, he said. He has one.”

W e formed a semicircle at a sa fe distance behind SheikhM oussaElH awi, and finally out it came. He had pulled the



cobra by its tail out of its biding place. He threw it before him.

Immediately it endeavored to get away; it started to crawl back

toward its hole. He increased the rapidity of his chanting and

a strange light was in his eyes; his face was twisted and gro-

tesque, and as if in a fury he jumped up and down in his bare

feet in the dust before the reptile, calling it in the name of all

the powers that he knew to return to him. Slow ly the snake,

as if it had been drawn against its will, turned and crawled back

toward him, apparently fighting against some influence stronger

than itself. W hen immediately before him, it coiled and swayed

from side to side. Continually chanting, he slowly reached

down, picked up the reptile which coiled its body tightly aroundhis arm, and held it before his face. Th e cobra had inflated its

hood and struck at him several times, but by a twist of his wrist

he threw the reptile off balance so it would miss its aim and he

was not bitten. A ll this time Frater Brower was faithfully re-

cording this strange incident on cinema him, and as we today

see the same scene on the film, we recall the strange feeling we

had that this individual was not just a snake charmer but did

exert some strange power over these reptiles.

The demonstration was repeated from time to time, and at

the close of the last demonstration we offered him compensa-

tion, but he haughtily refused it, waved us aside with his hand,

and marched on, apparently indifferent to our words of appre-

ciation and gratitude for his demonstration. W e were deeply

grateful for this unusual opportunity to record this scene, and

thanked Inspector H abach i profusely. (Note: Sheikh Moussa

EIHawi died in Gizeh of a cobra bite a few months after ourreturn, so a news cable reported.)

The balance of the day was spent in negotiating for the pur-

chase of an unusual collection of exhibits for the Rosicrucian

Egyptian Oriental Museum relics worth a considerable sum

because of their age and because they were the property of re-

nowned personages. Each of these antiquities had to be in-



spected by Habachi before being exported from Egypt, as it is

now tbe custom of the Egyptian government to permit the ex-

portation of only those things of which it may have a likeness,and those things which are authentic, so as not to bring ridi-

cule upon Egypt.

I will never forget the stroll we took with Habachi down to

the edge of the Nile just as the sun was beginning to set. Its

rosy glow spread over the water; the air was now cool and

pleasant. It was our last night in Egypt; we were reluctant to

leave. W e were thankful to the Inspector for what he had doneand had helped us to accomplish. W e had just finished again

expressing our gratitude, and were about to return to our hotel,

expecting him to accompany us part way , when he said, I

leave you here. I am crossing the Nile.

W e were surprised, and said. At this hour? It will be quite

dark before you return.

W ith a peculiar smile he looked straight into my eyes andsaid, I am not returning tonight. I sleep on the W est Bank.

Frater Brower stated. Oh, then you have another office, or

an abode across there.

He said. M y abode shall be the Temple of Medinet Habu.

Frate r Brower and I looked at each other. You are sleeping

in that great temple tonight, by yourself? W rhy?

Smiling again, he said, You are students of mysticism; you

are Rosicrucians, are you not?

Y es,” was our reply.

Then you have my answer.

W e were astounded. Apparently he was returning to spend

the night in an environment and atmosphere of his ancient an-

cestors, to be surrounded by memories of their achievements, todream of their hopes, and aspirations, to try and visualize the

scenes that took place there, to gain from those great stone walls



and the inscriptions, dark shadows and absolute silence, some

idea of their inner ideals, of things left undone <— perhaps to

quicken his own consciousness, to help him carry on, to keep

alive in Egypt what they had begun centuries before.

Slowly we turned and in silence left him, we to leave Egypt,

to pass another milestone along civilization s trail.



C hapter VIII

S T R I F E I N T H E H O L Y L A N D

W a r i n J e r u s a l e m !

The land where the Prince of Peace had expounded His

message of hope for humanity was now ridden by riots and

burning with the flames of hatred! Nearly twenty centuries ago.

from the same land, went forth the doctrine that a brotherhood of man, and good will on earth toward all, would be the highest

manifestation of the divine in man s nature. Today the authori-

ties in Cairo warned us that we would enter Palestine and Jeru-

salem at our own risk, for the populace were aligned against

each other. Rac ial and religious prejudices had swept all bar-

riers of reason and tradition away.

W e thought, as we determinedly signed papers releasing theauthorities from responsibility for any possible injury to our per-

sons in Palestine, that it is remarkable how well religion has

survived, promising peace, love and compassion in a world

where on every side reality portrays envy, greed, jealousy, and

strife. Still the illusion goes on. Bu t then, are not many worthy

ideals illusions only because they are not possible of actuality

under existing circumstances? The illusion exists not in their

worthiness but in the belief that they are possible of attainment

in our own lifetimes.

The Egyptian press substantiated the dire warning of the rail-

road representatives. Articles told of troop movements in Pales-

tine, of the concentration of armed forces in Jerusalem, of pil-

laging and A rab atrocities. A s we rode through the night, look-

ing up at the dark blue canopy overhead with its scintillating

specks, the tales of war and bloodshed seemed fantastic anddistant, like a horrible dream when one awakens in a room

bathed in warm, couragegiving sunlight. Th e press exag-



gerates,’ was our selfencouraging thought as we settled down

for a monotonous railway journey of a night and a day.

Kantara at last! W e rose stifly after our journey of severalhours, shook the desert dust from our clothing, feeling much as

the Nomad must feel who pushes his way across the desert

wastes on the back of a camel. Here was re lief; we were to

ferry across the celebrated Suez Canal, point of international

controversy. Th e coolness of the water wou ld be refreshing.

W e — Fratres Brower and Shib ley and I ' jugg led our lu ggage

through the open compartment windows to jabbering, fezzed,

native porters who eagerly seized it and fought among them-selves for the privilege of carrying the pieces and earning a

small fee in compensation.

A queer spectacle greeted our sight as we trailed behind our

porters. The Suez at this point was exceedingly narrow and

unimpressive. Its width seemed to us not greater than many of

the principal irrigation canals of W estern United States. Except

for three Iowwattage flood lights mounted on slender, obliquely

fastened poles, which cast small circles of a yellow haze on thesluggishly moving water, the canal was inky black and free from

even the outline of any craft. Parading down a rickety plank

ramp, we walked on board the ferry. The ferry was like a

continuation of the ramp; the flooring consisted of rough planks,

fastened with handwrought nails, protruding in many places,

over which passengers stumbled. Th e only support on either

side was a railing, much like a crude fence but having only

a top bar. Th e ferry had neither prow nor stern. It was , in fact,but a raft some thirtyfive feet in length and twentyfive feet in

width. The passengers crowded against the railings to permit a

lumbering truck the center.

W^hile humanity and vehicles were being compressed into

the small area, we looked at our fellow passengers. W e felt

conspicuous; our garb was so strictly W estern. No t another

of the perspiring group was attired in a like manner. O n my



right stood a swarthy native woman, with shiny brass earrings

and a voluminous skirt of brilliant hues. A striped shawl draped

her head and partly shaded her darting eyes. O n my left was aBedouin, Arab Nomad, wearing leather sandals, each with its

supporting thong tightly drawn between the large and next toes

of his broad feet. Covering his gaunt rame was an awninglike

linen robe, and hanging from his black rope belt was a dirk,

the scabbard of which was inlaid with motherol pearl, causing

it to shimmer with reflected light. He, and many of his kind

who crowded us, were apparently oblivious to our presence.

They dwelt on thoughts not agreeable, for their faces were dis-

torted by scowls. 'No ne too pleasant company, I thought as I

recollected tales of hatred which the Arabs were said to harbor

for us Occidentals at this time.

The pleasing coolness of the air was mitigated by the ravenous

mosquitoes, and the pernicious sticky black flies. W e felt further

uncomfortable, for we were aware that we were now becoming

objects of exceptional curiosity to several.

It was but a matter of moments before we had crossed the

Suez and were aboard the sleeper which was to take us into

Palestine. A s I lay listening to the highpitched shriek — rather

than whistle — of our engine as we sped across the Peninsula

of Sinai, I thought of its ancient copper mines. For centuries

these great mines had provided the pharaohs with the metal

so badly needed for implements and weapons alike. A ll the

peoples of the thenknown world bartered for this Egyptian

copper. No one knows how and when ore was first discovered,

but it is thought to have been first found on this peninsula in

the dim past. Some prehistoric Egyptian — perhaps a late stone

age traveler — found one morning, glistening in the stillwarm

ashes of his fire, one or more beads of metal which had gone

through the process of smelting in the roaring flames of the nightbefore. Repeated findings of these beads in the remnants of

the fire on this peninsula caused him and his companions to



experiment with heating the loose surface stone. Such experi-

mentation resulted in eventually learning how to extract the

metal crudely from the ore. W ith that simple discovery, the

world advanced tremendously. N ew accomplishments were

possible, for the age of metal had arrived!

W e rose early to greet the rising sun tinting the distant East-

ern hills a delicate shade of pink. Th e land was desolate, like

our Bad Lands of Nevada — tablelike, hard packed with tuHs

of parched vegetation, with a sprinkling of round pebbles, a

little larger than commercial gravel. Not a sign of life was a p-

parent. This vista did not complement our glamorous concept

of what the Holy L an d should be. Th e uninteresting view

turned our attention to our reading matter, by which we hoped

to break the monotony of the ride.

Our attention sometime later was drawn from our books to the

outside again by a sudden slowing of the train s speed to a crawl.

The hills were now closer very near, in fact and on both

sides of us. W e were traveling through a narrow valley. The

floor of the valley was covered by short grass stubble, still brown-ish in hue. There before us was what we had expected to see

in Palestine <— a flock of sheep and herd of goats being driven

by a nodding Semitic, riding astride a small, trotting burro. Th e

bare feet of the shepherd nearly dragged in the dust; it looked

as though, if he stood upright, feet on the ground, the burro

could have passed easily between his straddled legs. A s we

looked, more flocks came into evidence, some descending from

nearby hills. A ll seemed to be converging.

So slowly had we been traveling for several minutes, that

the halt of the train was hardly noticeable. Here was the first

stop we had made during the day. W e left our compartment

to crowd in the aisle of the car, and leaned far out of the lowered

windows. Para llel with the track, for about the length of two

cars, stretched a board platform, open to the sky. A hundred

yards back of it were eight or ten tents, somewhat squattier than



our American Indian tepees and less graceful, of a black

material which we later learned was tanned goatskin. Aligned

in front were small children in tbe customary tattered clothing

of the East, some partly naked; but unlike the children of the

Egyptian fellahs, these were quiet, and almost motionless. N ea r

them were groups of adults, either astride burros or sitting on

their haunches.

Loud voices and the clatter of heavy boots on the platform

caused us to turn our heads in the direction of the rear of the

train. There were two soldiers British tommies. They wore

the regulation tropical uniform of the British soldier —<khaki

shorts and shirt, high socks, trench shoes, and tan cork helmet.

Each had, slung across his back, an automatic rifle with bayonet

affixed. The men themselves particularly attracted our atten-

tion. They were, in fact, boys; neither of the lads w as over

nineteen at the utmost ^freshfaced, bright eyed, the kind of

youthful, intelligent face you see in a college sports event andlittle expect to find in a military expedition of this kind.

A n incident occurred in the few minutes of our stay which

caused us to lose admiration for them and their superiors. Per-

haps it was exceptional; at least, we hoped so. A n A rab lad,

about sixteen or seventeen, sauntered over to the platform, with

ragged turban, legs and feet bare. Upon his approach, the

young tommies stopped their bantering and watched him. A s

soon as he stepped upon the platform they were upon him.

Each grabbing one of his arms, they pulled bim in opposite

directions, then shoved him so violently toward each other that

he nearly fell. He was finally pushed off the platform. One

then struck him with his open hand across the head, as he vainly

tried to protect head and shoulders with his arms. Retreating,

he never once offered resistance. The other ran after him, kick-ing him as he fled. W e were astounded. W hy this brutality?

Th e A rab boy had said or done nothing. Assum ing that his

presence was a menace to the train because of danger of sabo-



tage, could they not have ordered him away, enforcing their

orders with the presence of their weapons? W a s Great Britain

countenancing such conduct on the part of her troops? O r were

these, as their youth indicated, just raw troops unjustly display-

ing their new authority and might? Such actions, whatever their

cause, would only breed further hatred and difficulty in Pales-

tine for Britain, we thought.

W e rode on in silence for nearly another hour at a snaillike

speed. Th e next stop was at Lyda —<a larger platform, crowded

as the previous one, having a partial rainshed down the center.

The hills had closed in on us. Lyd a was a junction point; our

train was to go to Haifa and the sea; we must change here for

Jerusalem. No porters clamored at the window s for our bag-

gage. After quite some labor, we unloaded our assortment of

twentyone pieces, including the delicate cinema equipment, into

a pile on the platform. O ur Jerusalem train had not yet arrived.

Wê looked about us. W e were in an armed camp, it would

seem. O ne end of the narrow, rough shed was supported by

additional posts, and on top of it, behind a rampart of sand bags,

a machine gun was mounted, and behind it sat two alert tom-mies — about the same age as those we had previously seen.

From their position they commanded full view of the roc ky cliffs

which frowned down upon us, and they were alert, watching

for Arab snipers that had been harassing the railroad crews.

The platform was crowded with troops carrying full equipment,

waiting as we were for the train to Jerusalem. A drone overhead

caused us to look upw ard. 1 here a lone plane — a scout —

circled high over the depot and adjacent hills, ready to signalthe troops below of any Ara b movement in their direction. Wê

scanned the clefts in the scarred hills. There was no life visible;

yet we had the uneasy feeling that eyes from the dark shadow s

of the hillsides watched our movements, perhaps sighting at us

along rifles they hesitated to fire at the moment.

The piercing shriek of the dumpy engine, pulling rickety

wooden cars toward us, was a welcome relief. O ur party was



separated; we were all fortunate to find space on board. Tb is

was a troop train, and passengers — of wkicH we were the only

ones — were incidental, and tbeir comfort not considered. Tbe

troops were all in good bumor; tbey bad just arrived on the trans-

port from England, and were on tbeir way from Haifa to various

zones in tbe trouble area in tbe vicinity of Jerusalem and Bethle

bem. None was over twentyone, or so it seemed, wi tb tbe ex

ception of tbe officers. W e learned tfiat tlie youthfulness of tbe

troops was due to tbe fact tbat England bas found tbat men over

twentyfive years of age do not, unless tbey bave lived for somelength of time in the tropics, readily adjust themselves to ex-

tremes in temperature.

In the aisles outside of the compartments in eacb car were

stationed four men. rifles ready and at rest on window bars, as

they peered into the hills for signs of Arab hostilities toward the

train. O n a sharp bend I saw, through our open window

(through which dust and cinders poured) a gasoline truck travel-ing on the rails about a hundred feet in advance of our engine.

On it was mounted a rather heavycalibre machine gun, and

three armed Tommies stood by. This, we learned, ran in ad-

vance of the train to ward off attacks on it and to sight any

damaged rails or bridges intended to derail the train, which had

been the recent practice in these canyons.

The viciousness of the rocky hills through whi ch we were

winding was finally broken by patches of vegetation. W re were

nearing Jerusalem. 1 he sloping sides of the hills were now ter-

raced every ten or twelve feet, with threefoot walls made of

irregular stones plucked from the surrounding surface. Between

each wall and the one above was a thin veneer of soil; in these

rims of soil grew the grapes of Palestine, and much of the grain

and truck which the Holy La nd depended upon. In Biblicaltimes the peasant of Palestine found the thin coating of soil

on the rocky cliffs hardly sufficient for his actual needs; centuries

of rainfall had washed nearly all the remaining soil aw ay. The



land in this vicinity would have been completely impoverished

but for these stone retainingwalls, built as a last protective

measure. Hardy Hebrew women turned from their task of hand

cultivation to stare at the train of singing armed men that passed.

W e wondered as we looked at their solemn, weatherbeaten,

dull faces, whether they saw in these troops new bope or further

disaster for their land and race.

W e swung suddenly from the open country into the yards

of Jerusalem s only depot. Crow ds on the platform cheered the

troops who detrained with the lighthearted spirit of a crowd of

Su nd ay excursionists. O ur only conveyance was an old privatecar; the Arab taxi drivers were on strike as were all other Arab

employees. The Je ws dared not supplant them or operate their

competitive enterprises for fear of Arab reprisals, which meant

bloodshed for both sides. In consequence, all shops, factories,

mills, banks, and industrial places were closed and had been

for months. Hunger and disease were rampant, and tension was

growing stronger. Outbursts were frequent, loss of life

considerable. A s we sped at fifty miles an hour along one of the main

thoroughfares with a young Hebrew at the wheel, who furtively

glanced toward the boarded shop windows on his left and right,

we studied the buildings as best we could. Their fronts were

plastered and whitewTashed, which made them gleam in the

hot afternoon sun. They rose to a height of two or three stories.

Many had domelike roofs and minaretlike towers, revealing

the Moorish and Byzantine influence. Others had red hand-made tile and wroughtiron balconies, upon which ordinarily

doors opened but which were now boarded closed. Th is street

was macadamized, but side streets, of which we had but fleeting

glimpses, were cobblestoned, narrow, crude.

Our destination, one of the most prominent hotels in Jeru-

salem, was gratifyingly modern. After an exceptionally app e-

tizing and well served meal, we retired. Several times 1 was



awakened during the night by rumbling, indistinct voices and

the thud of feet below in the corridors and upon the street be-

neath my window. Fatigue overcame curiosity, and I would

lapse again into sleep. In the morning we discovered that night

had brought about a startling transformation of our hostelry. It

had been converted into a military headquarters for the high

staff of the British Palestine expeditionary force. Uniformed

army messengers were running up the broad staircase bearing

side arms. Highranking officers stood or sat in groups in the

main foyer, talking in low voices. A ll the rooms were occupiedby the military staff, and would be, with the exception of those

held by our party. An indication of the seriousness of events

was the low sandbag rampart on the sidewalk immediately in

front of the main entrance, behind which a sentry patrolled. W e

were allowed free exit and entry, but must return before 8:00

p. m. or be barred from entry. Eac h time we desired admittance,

we had to secure the permission of the armed sentry.

Turning the corner to cross the street to secure the services

of a guide whose name had been given us, we saw directly be-

neath the balcony of our rooms twTo armored trucks bearing one

pound cannon and regulation machine guns. These were riot

cars which patrolled the streets at night and rushed to areas of

disturbance until the arrival of the infantry. A state of w ar truly

existed.

‘‘W il l we be allowed to film even the historic and mystical

places under such conditions? asked Frater Brower, putting into

words my own thoughts.

“ Probably not,” was my pessimistic reply.

By appointment, a representative of the American Express

Com pany met us, and after greeting us he said, O ur office is

closed and all ordinary business is suspended. It is a special

concession that I meet you here. 1 cannot assure you any success

in your enterprise, for the High British Commissioner of Jeru-

salem has declared the city under martial law.



" Sh all we seek to obtain permission to take our cinema pic-

tures? I asked.

Such channels of authority do not exist at present,” he said.

I would suggest that you proceed as usual unless ordered to

cease by tbe military authorities.

I suddenly became aware of someone standing close behind

me. Som ewhat startled, I turned quickly to look into the face

of an Arab, bowing graciously to me. He was attired nattily

in a business suit such as any young American or Englishman

might wear. The only touch of the Oriental in his attire was histarboosh (fez). He was a young man of thirtyfive. Particularly

impressive were his large, expressive eyes and his exceptionally

fair skin for one of his race. The extent of his lavish bow and

his genial smile caused me involuntarily to bow sli ghtly in re-

turn. Noticing our confusion, the Am erican Express representa-

tive stepped forward and introduced us; he was to be our guide.

W e shall call him Sule, which is not his true name. Not a

pleasant prospect, I contemplated; an Arab guide, and we

Americans — the next to being English in the minds of most of

the peoples of the levant, and the English were far from being

in favor with the Arabs at that time.

M y musing was interrupted by his question, Sh all we pro-

ceed on our journey at once?”

Before I could reply, the American Express representative was

bidding us farewell and hastily retiring. Turning to Su le, I an-swered with a question. Sh all we take our cinema equipment

with us now, or just our still cameras?”

Let us investigate the sites now. Therefore, take your still

cameras; tomorrow, the cinema,’ he said in his charming accent.

In less than half an hour we were off. Sule had engaged two

robust Arab porters to carry our Graphlex, tripod, plates, and

other paraphernalia. No automobiles being available, we

walked, feeling quite uncomfortable in the hot sun. The heat

discouraged unnecessary conversation. O ur comments were in

monosyllables.



W e stopped before one of Jeru salem s historical and massive

triple gates — now but a great stone arcbw ay through which

pedestrians and pack burrows alike tread. Everywhere shop windows were boarded, creating a depressing atmosphere, im-

pressing one with the fact that danger lurked near at hand or

was expected momentarily. Natives stood idly, leaning against

shop fronts or buildings. To us they all seemed to be Arabs,

solemn, unexpressive, staring into space. Some slowly turned

their heads and looked after us. Beg gar boys ran up to us hold-

ing out dirty hands, chattering in Arabic, some proffering cakes

for sale in filthy straw baskets which bad been sitting on the

curbs of the gutter, and over which flies hovered, many already

covering the wares. Th e whole scene was, however, picturesque:

the remaining portions of the once great walls of King David s

temple; the alleylike streets; the roofs of houses on either side,

leaning until they nearly touched, as though supporting each

other in their stage of nearcollapse. Burros were the only means

of conveyance, walking patiently, their ears flapDing. flies buz-

zing about their heads, trudging under swaying, cruel burdens.

The commercial life of the city however, was obviously para-

lyzed, and there were no tourists, no outsiders but ourselves.





I H E U N K N O W N C O N D IT IO N S O F P A L E S T IN E

T u r n i n g down a steep incline, we entered nt the bottom a

large flagged courtyard, closed in on either side of us by a

massive, sombre, graniteblock wall. In tront ol us, the tkird

side of the courtyard was a fairly large edifice of tbe same de-

pressing hue. 7 lie natural gray of the stone Iiad been darkened

by years of rain which had streaked the stones wi th black. Itreminded me, with its arched entrance reached by descending

the flight of wellworn steps, of the I emple of Justice in Paris,

former prison during the French Revolution. 7 his fortresslike

structure was the Church ol the Holy Sepulchre. 1 he authen-

ticity of this purported tomb of the Christ is much disputed.

Now lying in the center of modern Jerusalem, it at one time

was just outside the walls of the city. The Christian literature

of the first three centuries made absolutely no reference to the’ empty tomb” ; if it had been known in the past and venerated,

it certainly would have been destroyed — so historians state —

during the destruction of Jerusalem by T itus (70 A . D.) and the

great devastation of the Bar Koklos Rebellion.

Th e Roman emperor, Hadrian, restored the city in 13 5 A . D .,

and erected over the tomb a temple, dedicated to the pagan

goddess, Aphrodite. 1 wo hundred years later, Macarius re-

moved the temple and found an ancient Jew ish tomb. Rock was cut aw ay from the tomb and a circular building — the Anas

tosius — was built around it. O ver this was built the present

medieval building. That the tomb inside is the one located by

Macarius is undisputable, but there is no proof, it is argued, that

it was the Christ s tomb. Speculation runs high as to outside

of just which gate of Jerusalem the Crucifixion actually took

place, for that fact would assist in determining the site of the

actual tomb.



Th e inside of the rotunda w as dimly lighted by candles. On

either side, against the walls, like concessions at an exposition,

were the altars and accoutrements of the various Christian sects which have property ri ghts in the buildings and share the honor

of preserving the site. Even to one who might not be strictly

orthodox, and therefore not unduly sensitive, the ostentatious

display was offensive. Each sect had tried, not to make its shrine

more dignified or symbolic of the sanctity of the place, but more

pretentious, just as a merchant would, to dominate the attention

of passersby. This obvious competition within the confines of

the sacred shrine itself h as led to many disputes, culminating inbloodshed. How disillusioning, was our paramount thought

as we left the edifice, must a visit to the place be to religious

pilgrims!

W e discussed the circumstances and our impressions freely

in the presence of our guide, Sule, as we prepared to take photo-

graphs of the exterior. He had been attentively listening, for

he said, Your view s are different from many who come to visit.

To you, God does not bestow blessings only upon those who

profess to know His ways, but as well upon those who follow

them, whether they know they are His ways or not.”

W e explained that we were not creedists, feeling that we

could understand God without reducing our understanding to

dogma. W e further explained that in our opinion, the errors

which existed in any religion were not in motive but in interpre-

tation and application.

'Precisely,” he replied. "A n d so I shall express myself in

my book.”

You are writing a book?’ I queried, studying carefu lly his

enigmatic face.

I am now a Christian, although 1 am an Arab. I was a

Mohammedan, and I feel qualified to make a comparison be-tween these two great faiths, and of this my book shall consist.



"And is it possible that your book might bring greater har-

mony between your people and the Jew s? I asked, risking a

challenging question.

If my question surprised him, his face did not reveal it; but

his eye held mine, as he replied in a deliberate manner, You are

Americans, not involved in the situation which exists here. 1feel that I can speak freely to you

This he did, giving us an understanding of the turbulent state

not obtained from the others, whose views have been more publi-

cized because of the means at their disposal.

“ Th e conditions which exist in Palestine, he began, are not

solely due to religious differences between the Arabs and Jews,

as many of the leading newspapers of the world would have

their readers believe. W e have had as nextdoor neighbors for

decades, Jews who deal with us and we with them. Our mutual

respect has been heightened by fair dealings and an equal as-

sumption of social, political, and economic responsibilities. In

the controversy that exists, these Jews, our neighbors and our

friends, support us. Palestine is a land which, even in your

short stay, he continued, his voice now quivering with emotion,

you must have already observed is incapable of supporting

agriculturally a numerous people. W ith the exception of the

Jord an Valley, a fertile strip, it is nearly a barren land and re-

quires a very hardy people to subsist on it. W e and the Jew s

who have been established here are not selfish, but we know

that an influx of population will bring ruin to all here who are

now enjoying no more than life’s necessities.’ W e listened in-

tently, impressed by his earnestness.

“Propaganda in England and in America, and conditions in

Germany, have encouraged thousands upon thousands of Jews

to enter Palestine with the belief that it was to become a new

kingdom of Judea, a land of affluence. Th is migration has been

encouraged by certain money interests that have bought worth-

less lands in Palestine and sold them, sight unseen, to the im-



migrants before they left their homes in other lands. These new-

comers are mostly not agriculturists — are even unaccustomed to

manual labor. Th ey arrive nearly destitute. A few weeks hard-ship on the soil of Palestine proves to them that they cannot sup-

port themselves upon it. and being financially unable to return

to their original homes, they move into our cities and towns.

They, by nature, are barterers, merchants, and they set up nu-

merous li ttle stalls (one cannot call them shops). They are forced

to live like cattle by circumstance, and thus undersell by far the

rest of us — even their own kind who have been established

here. 1 his unfair competition reduces living standards, wagesfall, business suffers, and we all starve. Still they keep pouring

in, to be in turn deceived.

“Not a word of these conditions reaches the outside world.

The British press and others continue to tell the world at large

how Palestine is fulfilling a prophecy of becoming a new king-

dom of hope and prosperity for the Jew s. W e have pleaded

with England, which exercises the palestine mandate, to restrict

immigration and to establish a quota for Palestine, allowing a

limited number to enter annually. A number that new business,

industry, and development can rightly assimilate. This has been

promised periodically, but still there is actually no quota in

existence.* A people can stand only so much deprivation; then

the law of their being causes them to retaliate, to struggle for

survival and for those little things which make life worth living.

If, we reasoned, we could paralyze transportation and all com-merce in Palestine, we could force the world to realize our des-

perate circumstances. Wê no longer operate the railroads;

those that are operated are done so by the British army. W e

permit no trucking, manufacturing, or conducting of usual

business.

This is very harsh and lawless you may think, but we fight

for life and the lives of our loved ones. Britain and other nations

* Efforts are being made now by the British Government to fix a quota and to portion Pales-tine into sections for the Jews and the Arabs,



have great interests here. The ir financial resources are affected

by these conditions. Pressure was brought upon the British

Parliam ent to establish normalcy. W e have been threatened but

have not complied with the demands. The military force has

undertaken to operate mills and supervise institutions. 1 his dis-

play of force has caused hatred, and my people have resorted

to the same means. They harass Britain s troops. They prefer

to bring about a settlement by treaty and compromise, but their

pleas are met by a cruel overriding by the military might. In the

national treasury of Palestine there was a small reserve sum of

six million dollars. W re are being penalized for our attempt at

existence; the expense of transporting troops, supplies, and war

materials here from England to oppose us is being paid out of

these reserve funds. W e shall never surrender or submit to

such conditions! O ur people are used to these hills; they were

raised in them. Armed and in them, they can resist a trained

and fully equipped British force of fifty thousand troops

indefinitely.

‘A merica.’ he stated, apparently to placate us if anything hehad said might have offended, "would surely be more consider-

ate of our needs. Wê selected her at the close of the Wôrld

Wâr to exercise the mandate over Palestine, but she refused.

"Fo rtunately ,” I replied, for undoubtedly she might have

confronted the same conditions and how she would have reacted

to them one cannot truthfully say. Is there I asked, much

loss of life?

Listen tonight, an hour after sunset. You will hear the crack

of rifles from various directions, he said with a glint in his eyes.

The chattering reply you will then hear is the machine guns of

the British. W hen British troops rush one section, A ra b snipers

harass them from another. W e do not like these methods, but

our conduct is the cry of a people in distress. W e have the moral

and material support, he proudly added, of all the Islamic

peoples of Syria. Turkey, Egypt, Iraq, and Arabia.



I he British are usually fair in their dealings,’ I began.

He interrupted. I speak no condemnation of the British

people as a whole; they have been our friends. 1 hose who havelived here before, and understand, have deplored their country s

action and protested. But mercenary interests have stifled their

pleadings, and the homeland knows not the true facts.

W e had walked as we talked. Carefu lly we plotted our cam-

paign for the next day. Bid din g Su le good evening, we retired

to our hotel. That evening we dined with the most prominent

British officers stationed in Palestine, in the simple, unpreten-

tious dining salon of the hotel. A British officer of rank is a cul-tured gentleman; no matter how far from his native land, he

never relaxes his customs, manners, or poise. Each evening,

though men only were present, every officer dressed for dinner

in his dinner jacket as meticulously as though visiting some

smart restaurant on the Strand with his lady.

An Englishman never permits himself to become influenced

by environment and social conditions into which he is thrust.

It can be said, that wherever an Englishman is, there is England.This reveals a most pure strain of nationalism. It does not mean

superiority, but rather a stronger allegiance to a chain of tradi-

tions. An American is more easily swayed by environment and

will assim ilate the customs and practices about him quickly,

sometimes good, sometimes bad. Fo r exam ple — though the

clocks of the hotel had accurate Palestine time, these officers

gathered about the single radio receiver which the hotel afforded

to secure London time by short wave, and then adjusted their watches accordingly for the number ol hours difference between

that and the local time. W^hat Am erican would set his time in

Palestine by a New York broadcast if he could obtain it from

the local clocks? Su ch is the influence tradition asserts on a

Briton.

The brilliant sunlight of the next morning was encouraging

W e had feared it would be overcast, from the appearan ce of



the skies in the evening. O ur equipment was all prepared. W e

carried with us four magazines of film, representing several thou-

sand feet, and all of the necessary shades and filters and acces-sories for the successful operation — we hoped of our equip-

ment. A twentyminute walk brought us to what had originally

been the outskirts of the ancient city of Jerusalem. Before us

was an attractive towerlike church — a gift to the Roman

Catholics of Jerusalem by the former Kaiser Wîlhelm of

Germany.

Passing through a large gateway, we entered a pleasant gar-

den, quiet and serene. Crossing this to the Gothic doorway, we

pulled on a weatherbeaten rope hanging there and heard from

the interior the distant tinkling of a small bell. A few seconds

later, the door opened disclosing a pleasant faced father, middle

aged, portly, wearing sandals and clerical garb. Our guide ex-

plained to him in French our purpose — that we desired to as-

cend to the top of the tower, which structure had the greatest

height in that vicinity, to photograph views of the surroundingterrain. It was rather an unusual request, this we realized.

After studying us carefully for a moment or two, he kindly con-

sented. After winding our way to the top of a tower by means

of a circular stone stairway, which permitted the passage of just

one person at a time, we were rewarded for our effort. There

before us was spread a goodly section of modern Jerusalem. In

the great distance could be seen a portion of the Dead Sea.

Slightly to our left was a hill, not great in height, but higher

than the surrounding land. It was perfectly bare. At one time

it was covered with olive trees, and was, in fact, the Mt. of

Olives upon which had been located the historical Garden of

Gethsemane. 1 urning to our guide I stated, I presume that

the olive trees were removed centuries ago. To the contrary,

he replied. Th e Mt. of Olives was covered with olive trees

until during the world war, when Palestine was occupied anddominated by 7urkish lorces. Due to the embargo by British

ships, the 1 urks were not able to obtain coal to operate the



trains through Palestine, and being badly in need of fuel, the

olive trees were felled by the Turks and used to fire theirlocomotives.

Here again was another indication of the fact that war is no

respecter of traditions, historical sites or even sacred places.

Being satisfied that we could get no better view than this, we

spent considerable time filming the vista before us. I was par-

ticularly impressed with this little church. Afte r departing from

the tower, I entered the chapel. Its simplicity was impressive,

restful, a place where one could quickly depart in thought and

feeling from the rest of the world. No lavishness, no attempted

display , just the cool, gray walls, the plain hardwood pews the

high altar beautifully carved of teakwood. Hig h above it some

light filte red through a stained glass w indow, forming a geo-

metrical pattern on the mosaic floor and heightening the shadows

on either side of the chapel. But we had to hurry aw ay, for

our time was limited.

From here we were to proceed to the historical town of Bethle-

hem. The only transportation was burros. Getting astride these

small animals we jogged the entire distance of six miles along

a modern highw ay to Bethlehem. To passing troops in motor

lorries, we must have presented an amusing spectacle, but the

only means of transportation were these burros, with the excep-

tion of the military trucks and lorries. W e felt fortunate that we

could go even by this means. W e were accustomed to horse-back riding, which we enjoy, but there is a great difference in

riding a horse and a burro, as one soon learns. The stride of

the burro is shorter, more jerky and far more breathtaking. A

ride of three or four miles by burro is as fatiguing to one not

used to it, as a ride of several hours on horseback.

M idway we stopped at the Wêll of the M ag i. Th is well today

is the same in appearance as it must have been in the time of

Christ and before. Back of it is a grove of olive trees. There

have always been olive trees there as far back as local history



goes. Th e well is now dry and has been dry in the memory

of the oldest inhabitants. There is no doubt as to its authen-ticity, for historical records as well as legend point to this well

as the common meeting and stopping place of travellers and

those going to and fro from Jerusalem or Bethlehem. Caravan s

used to pass there, as well as those driving their flocks from one

section to another in search of new pastures. I was deeply im-

pressed as 1 sat on the edge of this well and thought of the

brethren of the mystic schools who conversed here while re-

freshing themselves with the well s cool water.Further on, we passed the round, silolike tomb of Rachel,

another truly authenticated historic place — although unimpres-

sive — along the same famous highway. Rounding a bend in

T H E W E L L O F TH E M AG I

Tradition states that the wise men of the East, on their way to Bethle-hem to visit “A newborn K in g. " drank of the water from this well.

(PJiolo by AM O R C)



the roacl, we had a panorama of the hills surrounding Bethle-

hem, to which so much reference is made in the New 1estament. W e could visualize the shepherds there watching over their

flocks. W e could realize why, since the shepherds played such

a prominent part in the life of the people of that time, there

were so many parables concerning their conduct. It was simple

for people to grasp the significance of such parables.

Lorry after lorry of troops and armored cars passed us, hurry-

ing to Bethlehem. Once the highway over which the wise mentravelled, those predicting the coming of the Creat Avatar, and

the road over which the Christ himself rode and preached to

the passersby of the coming of a new era, it is now an avenue

for the quick moving of machinery of destruction and the armies

of war.

W e were more impressed with our entrance into Bethlehem

than into Jerusalem. A ll streets were exceptionally tortuous,

twisting, winding and rough, with cobble and flagstones. Hardly

anyone in W estern garb was to be seen. A ll were robed much

like the pictures and paintings we have of the people of Biblical

times. W re were held up occasionally to let a herd of goats or

a flock of sheep pass us by. Finally, the narrow street on which

we travelled opened into a wider thoroughfare and there before

us was the Church of Nativity, the birthplace of Christ. Im-

mediately before it was a large plaza, elevated just a few feetabove the approaching street. Like most all of these ancient

buildings, it was not welcoming, but sombre, depressing, the

very massiveness of the stone conveying the feeling of coldness

and dreariness. 1he windows were small and slitlike. The en-

trance into the church itself was so low that one had to bow

his head to enter.

Most astounding to us, however, was the fact that the lorries

which had been passing us with troops and war supplies were

making this plaza before the Church ol the Nativity their des-

tination. IL is great space was to be used as a temporary bar-



racks and storage area for war materials. Stacked high were

cartons, cases and bundles and the black, ugly, large metal con-

tainers of crude oil and gasoline needed for the mechanized

equipment of the British troops. Stacked also ~ almost in front

of the very entrance into the Chuch of the Nativity — were rifles.

The troops stood idly by awaiting further orders. Machine guns

were mounted on the adjacent wall, surveying the whole area

as a protective means. A goodly portion of the Hebrew popula-

tion stood by, curiously watching.

W e entered the Church and walked from cham ber to cham -

ber. From these very chambers each Christm as morning a ser-

mon is broadcast throughout the world. In fact, ninety days

later, during the greatest strife in Palestine, with all of these

armaments about, a message of peace and hope was issued to

humanity. Fortunately, the listeners throughout the world could

not see the conditions existing where this message originated or

they would perhaps have had their faith in the message some

w’hat shaken.

W e were permitted to take pictures of this place, and foundit extremely difficult to avoid including modern troops and war

paraphernalia in the scenes of this holy site.

Returning once again to Jerusalem, and after visiting many

other historic places about which there is dispute as to their

authenticity, we were fortunate in being able to photograph the

building which legend and tradition declare is the place where

the Last Su pper of Christ was held. Even most historians are of

the belief that this structure was undoubtedly the original edifice.Strange, that this chamber which means so much to Christians,

to philosophers and mystics who are all somewhat in dispute

as to the real purpose and objects of the Last Supper, is now

a Mohamm edan Mosque. Th e Moham medans themselves con-

firm the legend that it is the place where Christ s Last Supper

was held. They appreciate its sacredness to Christians. Every-

one is permitted to visit it. It is a chamber about sixty feet in

length and about forty feet in width, with two rows of rather



stout columns down the center. It Has a very low, arcKed ceiling

and is dark, except for two narrow windows at one end which admit very little light, and candles which are placed

about the wall. The stone floor is covered, as is the custom in

mosques, with exquisite and very old and valuable Oriental

rugs. Unlike many of the other sites of interest to tourists and

Christian pilgrims, now controlled by Christian sects, no fees

were asked for admission. One could make a contribution as

he left but the Mohammedans did not seem to expect it, or ask

for it. Th is contrast in custom was very noticeable to us, and

certainly complimentary to the Mohammedans.

W e returned to the hotel just before the curfew hour. W e

found a flurry of excitement. The high commissioner had re

quested additional troops for Palestine. During the night before

an attack had been made upon his executive mansion, and the

rebellion was growing. Tomorrow we would begin our journey

away from Palestine into the interior of lands populated by people thought by Christians to be heathens, even pagans, or

at least enemies of that for which Christianity stands. Had

Christianity set such a marvelous example for them to aspire

to? H ad it succeeded as well as one would imagine from the

reading of its literature and its glowing terms of promise, when

the birthpl ace of its idealism and its greatest exponent was

steeped in war and bloodshed, and seething with hatred?



Chap ter X

A N C IE N T P H O E N IC IA

R a c i n g through bowers of fragrant shrubs, and then sud-

denly sweeping upward to skim along the crest of rocky slopes

overlooking the broad expanse of the Mediterranean, our spirits

rose with each turn in the road. Not more than two hours pre-

viously we had been in Palestine, but its blue skies had been

colored by our feelings, a pall of dejection had hung over us,

because of our intimate experiences with its bitter revolution.

How can one doubt that we mortals are torn by the strong in-

fluences of environment and our mental attitudes? The most

dominant factor in life is our attitude toward things and people,

our personal interpretations. If we are confident, cheerful and

courageous, every obstacle is but another stride to be taken in

our progress. The most sordid environment, even the darkest

hour becomes but a background by which to contrast our radiantspirits. Let hope and selfassurance ebb, however, and the

slightest change in circumstances becomes to us a wave of ca-

lamity by which we are completely engulfed. Th is but proves

that the world is impartial. It never intentionally oppresses the

individual nor does it favor him. Tim e either sweeps the indi-

vidual along with it, or passes him by. The mentally alert,

visionary individual is prepared to strike out and swim with the

current. He is never content to bewail his lot on the bank, watching life flow by.

The Mediterranean was exceptionally blue, rather of the

colored postcard hue, almost unbelievably brilliant. Th e sun-

light seemed to dance upon its glasslike surface. Th is coast

line of ancient Phoenicia, now Syria, was amazingly like that of

Ca lifornia . The mountains seemed to plunge into the sea no

gradual approach, but an abrupt demarcation, a bold precipice

submerging itself in the waters. It was as if the parched desert



far inland had, by a series of undulations, sought to reach the

sea and, suddenly coming upon it. one of its crests had slipped

beneath the water.

1 he surrounding terrain was little changcd. Nowhere for

miles along this coast were evidences of human progress, except

for the pavement upon which we travelled. Th e coastal hills

were uncultivated, although spotted with verdure, but, un like

our Californ ia Coast range, they were unfenced. Beautifu l

sandy beaches marked the erosion of the rocky shore by the sea.

beaches which in a more commercialized land would have been

marred by gaudy concessions. Little harborbays were formed

by jutting rugged arms of the coast. In these still waters, about

lOOO B. C., floated the sturdy, but small craft of the Phoenicians.

At that time blackbearded men, %vho but a few centuries pre-

vious had been desert wanderers, nomads, directed the loading

of the boats. The y carried cargoes of motherofpearl inlay fur-

niture, ivory combs, household utensils, gold trinkets, frankin-

cense and other luxuries with which to barter with the peoples

of distant countries bordering the shores of the Mediterranean.

I hey were at that time the greatest navigators ol the world.

They ventured as far W es t as what is now Spa in and carried

on an extensive trade with the early Greeks who were greatly

influenced by the Phoenician dress and customs. It is said that

the early Greeks borrowed their style of costume from the Phoe-

nicians. A s they prospered in their trade, they colonized many

towns along the coast of the eastern end ol the Mediterranean.

Cars were now passing us rather frequently going in the op-

posite direction. Wê were approaching Beirut, the principal

seaport of Syria, or the state of Lebanon. In a few moments we

were slow ly moving through the streets of this city, which was

quite evidently influenced by Western ideas and practices. 1 he

change in the appearance of shop windows Irom those of Egypt

and Palestine, the large paved thoroughfares, elaborate cafes,

spacious lawns, even public trams, did not give us the impres-

sion ol the W estern W orld attempting to invade the East, but



rather that it had already arrived, and the East was trying to

survive the influence. Orig inally captured by the British in

October, 1908, the country is now a French Mandated territory,but the city of Beirut is exceptionally Americanized because of

the great American University now established there, whose

faculty members are mainly Irom the United States. 1 hese in-

structors brought with them their manner and methods of living,

and, with their families, gradually impressed the natives with

their superior way of living, to which the natives have taken

readily.

Our stay in Beirut was brief, lor it was not our immediatedestination. W e were bound for (he inland. Le aving the sea

level we began a very steep ascent, winding our way over the

high mountains. Lebanon, as this section is known, is renowned

for being the site of the once famous cedar trees, by the same

name, for centuries used extensively in the building operations of

the ancient peoples whose countries bordered the Mediterranean.

But one small grove of the great trees still remains and it is

preserved as a monument ol the past. Centuries before Christ,

the Egyptians put out expeditions to this coast to fell the great

trees and float them back to the mouth of the Nile, thence up

the great river for hundreds ol miles. I he writer recently had the

opportunity ol examining thoroughly several sarcophagi (mum-

my coffins) being installed in the new addition of the Rosicrucian

Oriental and Egyptian museum. 1hese sarcophagi date back

to approximately looo B. C . Ea ch of them was made, as practi-cally all of them were during that time, from planks ol cedar

brought Irom Lebanon, centuries ago. Even though they were

about thirty centuries old. they were yet in a lair state of preser-

vation. M any of the early fleets that plied the waters of the

Mediterranean were built of the cedars of Lebanon. It was a

rare wood and much sought after. I ovvard the South end of

the Lebanon mountains, towers Ml. Hermon, reaching a height

of q o o o feet. 1 he mountain is frequently mentioned in the Chris-tian Bible by other names. Around its base are to be found the



ruins of the Temples of Baa l. G en era lly speaking, Ba al is an

ancient sun god, but genetically speaking, Baal was the Syrio-

Phoen ician word meaning Go d. T h e ancient Sidonians hadnam ed this mountain Syrion. It is without vegetation of any

kind, except a plant life resembling our North American sage

brush.

To this point in our travels, our roads had been remarkably

well paved and graded. Now, they narrowed and were fre-

quently pitted. Th e hills were growing brown, as though they

needed rain badly. The country was becoming more desolate

and it had its effect upon our moods, and our conversation be-came less frequent. About two hours after having left Beirut,

and having just made a turn on a high mountain pass, we

looked down from an altitude of several thousand feet upon a

broad plateau stretching into the distance. Far below our road

continued, like a gray ribbon stretching for miles across the

waste. Toward the horizon a great green patch was visible.

Soon we were entering this patch, the outer edge of a fertile

area, and the ageold city of Damascus, which is on the fringe

of the great Mesopotam ian desert. Damascus, 57 miles east

of Beirut, has a population of about 188,000; 21,000 of which

are Christians and about 160 ,000 Jews. It is the oldest inhabited

city in the world. In the T elE IAmarna tablets or letters, the

first letters of state in the history of the world, exchanged between

Queen Nefertiti and the rulers of her subordinate states or col-

onies in 1 330 B. C ., Dam ascus is mentioned. At that early time,

according to translations, it was termed Dimashka. The same

name, referring to the same city is found inscribed on the walls

of the Tem ple of Rameses III in Upp er Egypt. It was the scene

of many wars mentioned in Bib lical literature. D av id had cam-

paigned against it, but without a great deal of success. French

troops were garrisoned there as elsewhere in Syria, but were

unsuccessful in accomplishing much with Damascus, or any

of Syria in fact, because of an antipathy held toward them by

the native Syrians. Various political influences, which we will



describe later, caused the French much unrest and a regret that

they had ever assumed the mandate.

O u r first impressive sight after entering this ancient city, was

a large cemetery near the city’s center, the tombs of which were

fashioned like small mosques with their customary domed roofs

and spiral minarets. 1 hey w ere so dim inutive that I likened them

to the ovens one sees used for the manufacturing of tile and

brick. Around the w ho le cemetery was an artistic Byzantine

brick wall, the top of wh ich was crenellated. W h e n our car

stopped before the principal hostelry which the city afforded,

located in a plaza directly across from the depot of a narrow

gauge railroad originally built by G erm any before Wôrld W ’ar

I, and now used for the transporting of freight from Beirut to

Dam ascus, we w ere greeted by a now fam iliar sight. Porters in

white linen robes which looked not unlike the old fashioned

night gown tied around the middle with a soiled red sash, and

wearing Mohammedan tarbooshes, shuffled up and sought our

baggage.

Wê paid little attention to the interior of the hotel, that is.

the main foyer, until our return from our rooms above where we

had immediately retired to remove some of the grime of travel.

Intensely hungry, w e sought the dining hall. Wê were ushered

into a spacious interior court. Courts are exceptionally comm on

in these Eastern countries, because they are cool, inviting and

traditional. 1 he walls w ere all white, against wh ich pots of

flowers and climbing vines appeared refreshingly cool. Th e c eil

ing was constructed of hand-hewn timbers. Be tween the tops

of the walls and the ceiling was a stone grill work which allowed

am ple ventilation. A t either end was a high, narrow wind ow ,

hardly large enough to permit the passage of a man. Th ey were

w ell shaded and kept out the mid-day heat and glare. M ost

surprising was the great number of persons that were crowded

in this fairly large dining hall. Th ere must have been at least

400 persons seated at long tables somewhat like those one would



find in an army or construction camp. Instead of be ing seated on

cbairs, they were seated on benches which were a part of the

table. M os t of the d iners were in W es te rn attire, a sack or

business suit, and all wore tarbooshes. It is a custom not to re

move the tarboosh when indoors, or when dining.

A n amusing incident was that all were ea ting as rapid ly as

they could, and not a sound of a voice was to be heard. N o one

was conversing, all infently concentrating upon the consump

tion of food. It seemed as though they were given a limited time

to eat and could not afford to indulge in conversation. It was so

different from the leisurely dining of Europe, where eating is

an art and a social event as w ell. Wê later learned that it is

not a custom among the Syrians and the peoples of the Levant

to converse when eating, but rather to devote their attention to

food first, and then converse at length afterwa rd. I was also

surprised to find a hotel so crowded in such an out of the way

place as Damascus. M an y of the big hostelries of Am erica and

the W es ter n w orld wo uld have been grateful for such patronage

as this hotel was apparently enjoy ing at this time. If w e had

seen a similar sight in Am erica , w e w ou ld have thou ght a con

vention was in session. Conven tions seemed to be such a W e s t

ern mode, that we did not entertain the thought in this instance.

L^pon inquiry, w e found that this was a momentous occasion in

Syria, and that an election was to be held for the president of

Syria. Th e hotel was more than a mere hostelry, it was used

as an administration building by government officials and politi

cal parties, and in fact all of the principal affairs of state were

conducted there. A s soon as lunch was finished, the guests all

crowded into the hallways, lounge and foyer to congregate in

groups, gesticulating wildly with their hands, which is custo

mary among a very highly emotional people such as they are.

Suddenly, while we were studying these people, who, al

though mainly dressed as we were, yet were so different in man

ner, a hush came over the entire assembly. Every one stood rigid



as though for an inspection and immediately ceased talking.

W e looked about to see the cause of the sudden suspension of

activities and conversation. A ll eyes were fastened upon a largeFrench doorway that led into the dining hall, from whence we

had just come. 1 he doors were thrust open and a dramatic

entry was made, in ceremonial fashion, by a person whose very

appearance indicated a regal position and birth. He was an

Arab prince, we learned. He had travelled several hundred

miles from a desert area over which he had dominance, to par-

ticipate in these conferences and the election. He was in fact

a royal nomad, a desert chieftain. He had control and directionover some 15 ,00 0 Bedouins. His costume was impressive and

picturesque. He wore a heavy silken robe, full at the bottom,

and the conventional Bedouin sandals inlaid with sterling silver.

His turban was of a brilliant hue and affixed to his head with

the argila. Around his girth he wore a twisted silk cord like a

cordelier from which hung, on his left side, a beautiful dirk.—

although highly ornamental it undoubtedly was quite practical.

His wearing of such large sun glasses was unusual. Typica l ol

the Bedouin, his hands were quite large and gnarled. His face

w as long, slender, and with a large aquiline nose characteristic

of the Semitic race. He spoke with a soft, vibrant voice and

was very graceful in his walk . He had a definite positiveness

and selfassurance, and reflected the attitude of one accustomed

to respect and obedience to his least command or wish. He had

descended from a long line of nobility. In the open desert his

word was absolute law. He was the highest court of appeal and

made decisions which would shape the course of the lives o*

those who depended on him.

In this election which was now taking place, he could have

easily influenced the thousands who were his followers and sub-

jects to vote as he wished, for either candidate. Looking neither

to the ri ght nor left, he strode out of the hotel toward a waiting

carriage, followed by his personal bodyguards, two huge mem-

bers of his race, dressed like himself, but not having such



ornamentation because of their lesser station. In addition to

carrying dirks, the bodyguards also wore, crisscrossed over tbeir

cbests, bandoliers containing large calibre shells, and slungacross each of their backs was a modem repeating rifle. Be-

coming more curious about the situation we determined to learn

further facts. Later that evening we made the acquaintance of

the British Vice Consul of Damascus, who frequented our hotel

because it was the center of local social life, and because the

few foreigners or Europeans who visited Damascus for a brief

stay, whether on business or pleasure, located there.

France, we learned, was anxious to make Syria profitable to

her — to develop it in some way so that it would not become an

enormous expense or burden to the home land, as it very evi-

dently now was. She could not, however, gain the confidence

and respect of the people of Syr ia —■primarily because of her

foreign policies and her refusal to oblige her officials, both mili-

tary and diplomatic, who were stationed there, to learn the native

language. It is related that she considers it beneath Frenchdignity and obliges the natives to learn French, if they wish

to transact any business or affairs with her. Th is attitude caused

a resentment which could not be bridged over by any protesta-

tions of friendliness. O n the other hand, two other interests

were seeking control in Syria. Turkey, who during the Ottoman

Empire reigned supreme in Syria, as almost everywhere else in

the Levant, had her agents constantly fomenting discord and

dissatisfaction among the people, agitating against France andurging an overthrow of the French mandate and the return of

Syria to 1 urkish rule. The more intelligent of the Syrians oppose

this move. They either recall experiences with 1 urkey in the

past or are very familiar with the history of Syria under Turkish

domination, and they desire Syrian independence, a complete

Nationalistic government.

One of the two candidates for president was definitely a tool

ol the French government, and would have been in accord withany move France wished to make. The other candidate was



said to be a tool of the Nationalist party tkat sought complete

independence trom France. T he Na tionalist party dared not run

one o f its own principal supporters, for Fran ce w ou ld havedefinitely prevented the election. Th e tool of the Na tionalist

party had to appear to be sympathetic toward France, but as

w e later learned, was really powerless to speak and act without

consulting his supporters.

Th e president-elect of Syria resided at our hotel, and by a

coincidence his quarters were directly across from ours. H e was

a small man, one who appeared to be more impressed with his

own importance than with the w elfare o f the state. H e w as anenthusiastic motion picture fan, particularly upon those occasions

when the only theatre of the city exhibited news reels in which

he appeared . 1 he local cinema was in the same block and only

about two doors from the main entrance of the hotel, yet upon

his frequent w eek ly visits to it, a car of state wou ld pull up to the

main entrance of the hotel, the president s uniformed military

guard of six would stand at attention and present arms, while he

entered the car and was driven about400

feet further down the

block. Th en the car w ou ld stop, the military guard would march

up to it, stand at attention, and again present arms while he left

the car. A t the end of the performance the who le ceremony was

repeated. It was like a scene from a comic opera.

It seems as though the citizenry know the status of the situa

tion and more respect and awe were shown for the Bedouin

chieftain, and for the principal political supporter of the Na tional

party, the power behind the scenes, who used the hotel lobby

and foyer for his consultations. Th is political leader and hero

of the National party, who is said to pull the strings that actuate

the president, is a very intellectual type — eyes fa r apart, deep

set, visionary, dreamy. Dressed in W est er n attire, he never

made dramatic entrances, nor was he ostentatious in his

mannerisms.

H e had been incarcerated a number of times by the French

authorities for inconsequential offenses, mainly, of course, for



political reasons. H e w as the author of a number of books hav

ing considerable circulation in Syria and elsewhere, written

mainly to reveal the purported oppression of Syria. O n e often

reads of these political fracases and intrigues, but one very sel

dom has the opportunity to see them demonstrated and enacted

in such intimate quarters as the lobby of a hotel, and so openly

disclosed. Syria, politically, has not yet acqu ired the subtleties

or diplomacies of her larger sister nations of the world where

the same things occur, but are rather more carefully staged.



T H E O L D E S T IN H A B IT E D C IT Y O F T H E W O R L D

O u r n e x t d a y was spent mainly in making preliminary

preparations for Mr. Brower s and my departure for the strange

land of Babylonia, known as Iraq or Mesopotamia. 1 he follow-

ing day was devoted to photographing some of the h istoric sites

of this most historic city of Damascus with our Graphlex still

camera. W e visited the “ Street Called Straight,” a very long

and actually very straight street, which bisects the city from the

Eastern to the W estern gate, a street which has been in exis-

tence for several centuries. I he major portion of this street is

covered over with an arched ceiling, forming an arcade in which

there are occasional skylights permitting a soft light which pene-

trates the dust and smoke fumes from the bazaars and shops

below. On either side o f the narrow street are little shops, mostof them mere closets or cubbyholes, niches in the wall, over

the entrances of which are suspended striped awnings of

vivid hue.

The proprietors are frequently in native costume. They sit

on their haunches before their shops, with knees up under the

chin i— the most uncomfortable posture for a W esterner, or one

unaccustomed to it i—<or they sit upon small stools, the seats of

which are of woven fibre, like the stools of antiquity, or strips

of leather. A s you pass, they pull at your garments or run in

front of you trying to block your way in as gracious a manner

as they possibly can, endeavoring to have you turn and enter

their shops. If they think you are English or Am erican , or if

they understand any English whatsoever, they cry “ best goods,

meaning that their particular bazaar or shop contains the best

wares of its kind. The “ best goods” cry, of course, is not to berelied upon, for four or five doors further on another one of these

shops, with equal service and wares, can be found.



T h e city of Damascus has long been noted fo r its steel. A

particular process was used by the early Damascans in making

steel wh ich caused it to be renown ed am ong the ancients. E xce l

lent cutlery, knives, swords and dirks, marvelous examples of

craftsmanship, may be purchased at ridiculously small prices, if

one is accustomed to buying in these bazaars, which means not

purchasing at the first price demanded. Th e Syrians are also

noted for their native cand y wh ich has a remarkable combination

of flavors and is very attractively prepared. If one can overlook

the methods of making it, and uncleanliness is not too repulsive

to him, the candy is very en joyable. A number of the bazaars

specialized in the sale ol rugs, hand-woven and having beautiful

hues and a variety of design which would delight any lover of

O rienta l rugs. Alth ou gh the prices were considerably less than

any we had seen previously, these rugs were yet much higher

in price than those which w e were to see later on.

In the center of the city is a great mosque, originally a Chris

tian church built by Constantine. A rou nd the mosque are the

original walls built by the crusaders. Th ey are still in an excel

lent state of preservation. O n e enters the great arched gateway,

and there before him is an enormous plaza of original flagging.

T h e high wall surrounding it has, on each of its four corners, a

minaret tower from which the Meuzzin, a Mohammedan priest,

calls the faithful to prayer several times daily with his musical

chant. T h e area within the walls would comprise the equivalent

o f at least three or four of our modern city blocks or squares. In

this area are also two or three small bu ildings , some partly in ruins,

which are now shrines because of some historical significance. T h e great mosque itse lf is to the le ft of the court and runs the

full length of it. Th ere are several entrances typical of Byzan tine

architecture. W e were amazed upon entering to find an enor

mous room without partitions and supported by Byzantine

columns or spiral columns, graceful, tall and impressive. Th ese

columns supported timbers, upon which the flat stone roof rested.

The en tire area o f this grea t space which must have been at



least 500 feet in length and about 100 feet in width was covered

by rare Oriental rugs, not only rare because of excellent material

and design, but because they were several centuries old. Oneof them was the largest single woven rug I have ever seen. It

did not consist of several sewn together. It was one continuous

weaving and was nearly 200 feet in length and the complete

width of the structure. Although showing considerable wear,

it was still in an excellent condition. B y a rubbing of the hand

over the surface of the rug and brushing the nap back, in a few

moments the original colors would return with brilliance. W e

were informed that a wealthy English nobleman some fifty years

ago had offered the Mohammedans of Damascus ten thousand

pounds, or about $50,000.00 for this rug and the Mohammedans

were quite offended, because no price would be accepted for

such a mg, having been so long in such a sacred place.

Toward one end of this great room were four wooden shafts,

like posts, reaching to the roof from the stone floor. Around

these shafts which were set about eight feet apart, forming aneight foot square, was an Arabian grillwork of wood, through

which one could look. The floor of the center was a mosaic, the

colors were a delicate pastel shade, and the design consisted of

flowers, vines, and clusters of grapes. On the center of this

mosaic floor sat a small gold chest, about two feet in length,

one foot wide, and about eighteen inches high, apparently of

handbeaten gold. Our curiosity was naturally aroused by the

special prominence given this chest and we engaged one of the

Moslems in conversation. Speak ing fair English he advised us

that the chest was supposed to contain the head of St. John, the

Baptist, and beneath the mosaic floor was the tomb of St. John,

the Baptist. It may seem strange to many Christians to know

that St. John the Baptist, as an individual, is venerated by these

Moslems as well as by the Christians, not because he was a

Christian but because he was a holy man to them because of his deeds, and the accomplishments of his life were highly re-

spected by the Mohammedans. No one has ever opened this



chest, according to historians, to determine whether or not it

does contain a skull which might be in some way identified with

St. John, the Baptist. W h e th e r or not St. John, the Baptist sremains are beneath the mosaic floor no one knows, but history

does recount the legend that St. John the Baptist was en

tombed there.

Our journey carried us through a number of little winding

cobblestone streets, all filled with small bazaars and shops, and

containing a jostling crowd of jabbering citizens, who turned to

stare at us. Foreigners, particularly Europeans and Americans,

do not frequent Damascus since it is far off the popular touristtrack. Th ose few w ho do come do not go into the native quar

ters, as w e were doing. Wê finally stopped before a large wall,

more rightly the side of a building. It was covered w ith a wh ite

stucco, badly soiled and which had broken away in part, expos

ing mud brick behind it, with an occasional natural stone pro

truding. Wê walked to the entrance way wh ich consisted of two

large wooden doors, planks hung on crude hinges, suggesting

no evidence of the beauty and quaint interior we were to see.

W h e n the doors were opened, w e unconsciously gave vent

to words and phrases that indicated our pleasure at what we

saw. Be fore us was one of the most attractive gardens I have

eve r had the pleasure ot view ing . It was not as elaborate or as

expansive as many of the spacious lawns and gardens which

w e find in Am eric a or England — in fact, it wras rather small,

but it was as though we were looking at an old Persian print,

or as though there had m ater ialized before us, a scene out of

the Arab ian Nigh ts. H ere was a true Persian Garden , such as

fab led in song and story. In the center was a mosaic pool. Th e

artistic design consisted o- Arabic characters and geometric sym

bols. I he center of the poo l had a bubbling fountain. In its

center were lotus and water lilies and water plants with which

w e were not familiar. The flaggin g which was uneven in the

courtyard was of a variety of stones of beautiful natural colors,

some a light sh ade of blue, some terra cotta, some slate, some



almost as black and shiny as onyx. About the flagging were

large vases, terra cotta, evidently handmade, because they were

not of uniform shape or size, and did not sit level on the flooring.Some of them showed indentations, traces of the potter s finger-

prints, and in these vases there were growing shrubs and flowers

of brilliant hues, and vines which climbed the walls and high

windows.

Toward one end of this patio — or more properly Persian gar-

den, and of which we were to see many in the near future —

was an arched walk. Stepping up onto the walk and walking

its extreme length, we entered another doorway into a very small,

but high chamber, which housed a huge sarcophagus which

was quite plain, without color or design. In fact, the tomb

chamber itself was without any ornamentation, without any

splendor of any sort, and yet it contained the remains of one of

the most famous characters in history and the most beloved by

the Mohammedans. It was the tomb of Sa lad in who lived

between 1158 and 1193, A. D. and who died in this city of Damascus. He was a great military lord and defender of the

Moslem faith and renowned for his opposition to the crusaders.

Although fierce in warfare, in actual combat, he was noted not

only for his bravery, but for his kindness to prisoners, to the

men, women and children whom he captured, and for his high

idealism. His word was his bond and he countenanced no lies

or treachery. He despised the breaking of promises wh ich wascommon among many of the crusader leaders, who would resort

to any means to accomplish their end in the name of

Christianity.

O ur party was to be further divided in Damascus. Frater

and Soror Shibley had remained in Jerusalem, Frater Brower

and I were to take our elaborate cinema camera equipment and

photographic apparatus and paraphernalia with us further East

on our venture across the Mesopotamian desert. Soror G ladysLewis was to remain in Damascus, awaiting our return some

ten days later. Dam ascus was hardly the place to leave an



unescorted Am erican or European woman. Even native Syrian

women were infrequently seen out of doors, or in public places,

except when escorted by their husbands or some male member

o f their imm ediate families. O n such occasions they were veiled .

American and European women are accustomed to greater free

dom and dislike being confined, and yet it would be obviously

dangerous to go about these bazaars and the native district, and

even the main thoroughfares, without an escort. Soror Lew is,

however, insisted that we proceed as scheduled, so we prepared

for our departure, and one of the most exciting adventures we

were to experience on our entire journey. W e retired early that

night, as we were to leave at sunrise the next morning.



Chapter XII

C R O S S IN G T H E M E S O P O T A M IA N D E S E R T

T h e h o u r was early, the sun already uncomfortably warm,

and the streets filling with garrulous Arabs, when a motor bus

rum bled up. Th is was to be our mode of transportation to dis

tant Baghdad, the glamorous city of Ara bian N ig h t’s fame.

Upon a first examination, it was a typical motor coach, such as

one sees racing along the modern highways of the larger nations

of the world. Th is symbol of the Tw entieth Century dam pened

our spirit of adventure for the moment, and jarred the mental

picture which we had of ourselves reliving the experiences of

ancient travellers to Ba ghd ad. A motor coach does not com ple

ment a M arco Po lo mood. Fra ter Brow er called my attention

to the exceptionally large w heels of the coach — over four feet

in height, and having tires with a peculiar lateral tread which

I had never seen before. W e conjectured that they were d e

signed to afford traction in the soft sands we expected

to encounter.

A ft e r securing our seats and supervising the careful loading

of our camera equipment, still having a few moments before

departure, w e carried our examination further. Th e w indow s,

we now observed, were smaller than the conventional ones of

other busses. Surprising was the fact that they were hermetically

sealed, and w e were to travel in desert heat —<not a p leasant

thought. Sm all louvers, above each w ir low, afford ed the only

ventilation when the car was in motion. Th e driver and his

relief assistant had not entered, so we took the opportunity of

inspecting the driving and control panel. Just above the panel,

and on a line with an aperture in the windshield, now closed,

was a metal turnbuckle, mounted on a swivel and ratchet, much

after the kind used as a machine gun mounting in the cockpits

o f military aircraft. Th is was ominous and we looked at each



other significantly. The thought had passed through my mind

that perhaps this journey would not be so uneventful after all.

W e retired to our fairly comfortable, individual reclining

seats upon the entrance of the drivers. Th e drivers now received

our attention. Both were obviously English. N o t only was this

apparent from their accent, but from their fair complexions, by

contrast with the dark-skinned Syrians and Bedouins of Damas

cus. T h ey w ere dressed in khaki shirts and shorts, exposing bare

knees above woolen socks, a customary tropical attire for the

British, but one which the American never quite seems to get

accustomed to. T h ey w ere tall, about thirty-five years of age,

robust and deeply tanned, with eyes that squinted — the result

of a continuous attempt to keep out the glare of the desert sun.

I rave lling slow ly to avoid striking indifferent children and an i

mals that straggled down the center of the twisted streets, w e

headed toward the desert.

Nairne, an Englishman, so we had learned, had left the com

forts and conveniences of his home land to promote this modern

transportation in a land whose history dates back to the earliest

civilizations. H e had become particularly impressed w ith the

American advance in the automotive industry and had used

Am erican -bu ilt motor coaches exclusively. Th is coach was built

in Ph ilada lph ia, Pen nsylvan ia, from his ow n specifications. H e

had been advised that attempting to operate a passenger line

across this desert would be risking human lives as well as proper

ty. M arau ding bands of Ara bs and Bedouins would pilfer and

lay to waste each caravan. H e made the attempt, it is said,

and found the predictions true. U nab le to secure adeq uate pro

tection, it was reputed, he was compelled to pay tribute to

certain Bed ouin chieftains who in some mysterious manner

influenced the marauders to give his drivers and property im

munity to attack and seizure.

l~or the last few minutes we had been whisking through the

outskirts of this ancient oasis-like city. Su ddenly our speed was

so quickly checked that the momentum carried us forward in



our seats. Lookin g ahead for the cause, w e saw the pavem ent s

end. Here w as no graded road or w ind ing ruts stretching out

toward the horizon, but a vast expanse of hard, table surface,

giving little indication, even at this close proximity to the city,

of any vehicular travel. W e craned our necks, looking out of

either side of the coach. There was no telltale mark of our des

tination or direction. In a moment we w ere again travelling,

attaining a speed of about forty miles an hour over this open

desert, hea ding due E a s t<— but wh ere was the road ? Th ere

were no sign posts or even tire tracks. T h e driver caused the

coach to weave from side to side occasionally, to avoid depres

sions in the surface. Th e riding was not uncom fortable — in

fact, more comfortable than over some of the pitted streets of

Dam ascus. O u r curiosity was great, but the timidity of revea l

ing our inexperience with this sort of travel kept us from ques

tioning the driver at first — this, and the fact that his re lief

assistant had reclined his chair and from all appearances was

sleeping. Turnin g, w e looked over our fe llow passengers with the intent

of question ing one of them. Six other men shared the bus with

us — four seemed to be Syrians or possibly A ra bs or Iraqians.

Th eir faces were im mobile. A l l were looking across the wastes

buried in abstraction. Th e other two men were Europeans.

T h ey were, in fact, Englishmen. O ne, w e learned later, was an

army officer returning from leave to a post near Baghdad, and

was not a very sociable chap, compared to British officers wehad met in Palestine. T h e other young man, in his twenties,

was bound for the wells of a British Petroleum Company, East

of Ba ghdad. H e had made this journey before, and from him

cam e the answers to our questions. Wê were navigating our

w ay across this desert. T h e d river was guiding the car by com

pass as a mariner does a ship at sea. 1 hese motor caravans,

then, were truly ships of the desert.

T h e Mesopotam ian desert at this point was some six hundred

miles wide. U nlike our deserts of North Am erica, it was abso-



Iutely barren. N o cacti, sagebrush, or even birds or reptiles

were visible. Except for an occasional swell it was as leve l as

if graded by man. Th e surface was so hard that walkin g hardly

made the impression o f footprints. U n like the Sahara, here

there were no sand dunes. A s the great car rolled along, now

travelling nearly a mile a minute, it caused a fine dust to swirl

around the windows and we were thankful that they were

sealed. Small, almost perfectly round gravel, as though shaped

by hand, was scattered on the desert floor. The striking of this

gravel by the fast revolving wheels caused the pieces to ricochet

against the heavy window glass with startling revolver-like

cracks.

Just as the sameness of the scene began to become monoton

ous and the steady hum of the motor lulled us into drowsiness,

we saw what looked to us like little dots in the distance, slowly

bobbing up and down. Th ree or four minutes later and we were

approach ing them. It was the first of many camel caravans

wh ich w e were to see on this journey. W a lk in g in single file,

with their peculiar, forward lurching gate, were a dozen giant

drom edary camels. I o us they were enormous, in comparison

with the riding camels w e had seen and used in Egypt. Th ese

were pack camels, far larger and much stronger. Lashed to their

backs and suspended on either side, swayed their great cargo

packs, done in huge bales. D an glin g from the lead camel wasa hand-hamm ered brass bell, having a clear and more melodious

note than our cow bells. Imm ediately preceding the lead camel

on a fast-trotting burro, which appeared exceptionally diminu

tive in contrast to the size of the camels, rode the leader of the

caravan, a heavily black-bearded A rab . O n one side of the line

of camels rode three of his companions, also astride patient little

burros.

Th ey were follow ing the ancient caravan trail that had led

for centuries from Damascus to Baghdad, thence to Persia and

Arabia . Even today, nearly all of the freight between these cities



and countries is still transported via camel caravan in the same

manner as in antiquity. Cam els, although considerably slower

than motor trucks, are far more economical and dependable onthe desert. In this great open space there are no service stations

or repair shops, and the hauling of fuel is a considerable item.

T h e camels require lit tle food, as w ell as water, fo r their journey.

T h e products of the W es te rn world are bein g carried in this

primitive m anner to the East in exchange for the things in wh ich

the cryptic East still excells. Each night, the cum bersome bur

dens are rem oved from the camels backs and stacked in a large

pile. T h e camels are sometimes tethered. Drivers pitch low tentsof goat skins into which they crawl to sleep on crudely-made,

but richly designed hand-woven rugs. A s soon as the sun drops

beneath the horizon, the desert begins to cool, and late at night

the temperature drop is considerable. Bedou in encampments can

be de tected by flickering cam p fires. T o approach them un

announced in the dark would mean death, for during the long

hours of the night, some keen eyes are keeping vigil and steady

hands grasp high ca libered rifles. Ev en today, as in the centuries past, the law of the desert is mainly an individual inter

pretation of what is right, and might still rules.

A n unusually sharp vee ring of the bus from its course caused

us to look ahead, and on the horizon straight before us was a

dark cloud, rising from the floor of the desert to a great height

and moving with rapidity in the direction we had been travel

ling. Wê were n ow going at nea rly right-angles to our previous

course. T h e driver, wh om w e had finally engaged in conversation. know ing our interest, said lacon ically, Dust clouds.

Can we avoid them?” we asked.

These w e can, w e w ill drive around them, but it w ill put us

about ten miles out of our way, he replied. Here, then, wa s an

ad vantage in not being obliged to travel a road or definite course.

Wê could cruise at will, in any direction, without thought of

roa dw ay or embankment. "W ^hen w e are caught in these storms,

we are sometimes forced to wait for a relief caravan to aid us.



1he dust, despite our precautions, chokes our motor,” the driver

further volunteered.

Fo r the first time, the thought o f food entered our minds. I

glanced at my watch, and it was nearly noon. W e were not due

in Baghd ad, if on schedule, until tomorrow morning. Certainly

food must be provided some way. H ow foolish not to have

thought of it before. Suppose. I thought, w e had been expected

to bring our own. M en tally, I was reproaching myself when the

bus came to a stop. Th e re lief driver stretched, and then, stand

ing in a stooped position facing us. said. W e w ill eat here.

Frater Brower and I looked at each other, and in unison looked

out of the windows at the glaring desert, white with the noon

day sun, the heat radiations visibly rising, no habitation, no

sign of life, no shelter, no water. W^here were w e go ing to eat?

W h y stop here.

Wê were soon to learn. L iftin g a trap in the door o f the

driver s compartment, the assistant rem oved a number of card

board containers, like the comm ercial size workm an s lunch

boxes. In fact, they were specially packed , ind ividual lunches.

This , and exceedin gly cold water from a re frigera tor tank, constituted our noon repast. W h e n the car was not in motion, the

heat became intense, as very little air entered through the lou

vers. W e stepped out, but the sun s direct rays made the com

parative cool of the car’s shade welcome . Wê were about to

climb aboard again when we heard the distant sound of a

motor. Com ing from the No rth , still several miles distant, was

a dark spot. A few moments later an open, specially built auto

mobile came to a stop a few feet from us. It was ev iden tly veryhigh powered, and was armored with light steel plates. In what

would be the tonneau of an ordinary car, was mounted a light

cannon for firing one pound shells. At tac hed to a steel plate

on the back of the driver s seat, was a heavy-calib re machine

gun.

Solemnly the three occupants got out and approached the

bus. 1hrough the white dust that covered them, w e recognized



that they wore the French regulation army uniform. They also

wore the French Legion cap which has a heavy cloth fastened

to it that drapes down over the nape of the neck and sides of

the face. Removing their goggles which made them appear

grotesque — for the area around their eyes was the only portion

of their faces which appeared white — they looked at each of

us, then peered into the bus windows and under the coach.

W ithout a word or further ceremony they climbed aboard their

car and roared aw ay toward the South in a cloud of dust. They

were certainly symbols of the silence of the desert. O ur driverexplained that they were members of the French Desert Patrol.

Seeing our bus stopped, and believing that it might be attacked,

or in some trouble, they came to investigate. Seeing no difficulty,

they did not find it necessary to converse. This desert patrol is

to a great extent ineffectual, because there are an insufficient

number of these armored cars to patrol the vast area, and travel-

lers can be attacked, robbed and murdered, and hours, even

days, pass before their remains are located.

W e had been riding for hours, passing only an occasional

camel caravan. A s it grew dusk, we saw lights far ahead. A

town,’ ’ I said to Frater Brow er. “ C a n ’t be, ’ he said. His clipped

sentence reminded me of the disinclination of anyone aboard the

bus to converse freely. Nothing between here and Baghd ad,

he continued. It was not really a town we came to, but a great

desert fortress, a frontier post manned by French officers andSinghalese troops. 1 his mudbrick, onestory building, with high

walls and corner watchtowers surrounding it, was known as

R utb aA V el ls. Here in this sea of sand, was the only well of

drinking water for miles around. Th e water had produced no

natural oasis, but the white man had created one. To make the

water available to caravans and the nomads of the desert, and

to prevent marauders from seizing or despoiling it, the French

had built this fortress. It was really a garrison in the middle of

the desert. The water made it possible for French troops — be-

fore the advent of the motor car or plane, which could now bring



military relie f quick ly >— to ho ld out against a siege for many

days. Com ple tely surrounding the fortress, whose white wa lls

glistened in the sun, were barbed wire entanglements, the only

entrance through them being a narrow path to the heavily bar

ricaded gates.

Sentries peered down at us from the corner towers in which

w e could also see menacing rapid-fire guns. Beh ind the parapet

of the walls within the gates was a cat-walk, on which troops

could stand and fire through apertures if the fortress were at

tacked. In the center of the enclosure was a radio short-wave

antenna mast, the only means of dependable communication

with the outside world. Ou tside of the barbed wire w ere

sprinkled the black-skinned, crude tents of the desert wanderers.

Th ey were a llo wed to stay as long as they desired , but were

permitted to enter the enclosure only to fill their earthen vessels

from the single well. A n armed sentry always accompanied

them, and waited while they pumped the water into jug or vase.

W e were besieged by the vain sentries wh en they saw our pho

tography equipment. W e we re about to photograph one, wh en

the corporal of the guard came forward and abruptly shoved

aw ay our subject and posed himself. It wras his photograph

wh ich w e finally took. W ith in the cool walls of the officers’

dining quarters we enjoyed a meal which would have done

credit to prominent Am erica n hostelries. Th e prices were e x

orbitant, but, considering the circumstances, we offered no

complaint.

Nowhere do stillness and quiet enchant, as in a desert night

under a full moon. Th e car swept along w ith a steady droneof which w e finally became no longer conscious. Th e floor of

the desert was bathed in moonlight which looked surprisingly

like a blanket of snow. Th e stars were so bright that many had

auras whi ch enveloped each other to cause the sky to shine with

irregular, luminous patches. Wê had left R u tb aA V el ls several

hours ago and would in a short while reach the Euphrates, one

o f the great twin rivers. M ore than alluvian soil had been swept



along the Euphrates and its sister river, the T igris. Barques of

many nations had sailed down these rivers. Races had died by

their sides; civilizations had lifted their proud heads from the

black mud that was regurgitated on the surrounding plain. Like

two great arms these rivers had entwined and held humanity

in a protective embrace for centuries. Here, according to many

archaeologists and historians, was the cradle of civilization, the

site of the original Garden of Eden. 1 he plain between the

1 igris and Euphrates River, formed by the alluvian soil brought

down from the North, forms the South end of a great fertilecrescent, which fringes the deserts. The greatest distance be-

tween the two rivers hardly exceeds forty miles.

It was not until about two thousand years B. C. that this

plain received the name Baby lon ia. Before, it was known as

the Pla in of Shinar. In the dim past, no one knows just when,

persons of the great white race of the highlands, far to the North,

came Southward and followed these rivers to their outlet at the

mouth. Perhaps they were driven Southward by the descendingglaciers that swept all life before them. Th ese peoples we call

the Sumerians and they were not of the Semitic race. They

were even thought by some to antedate the earliest Egyptians.

Gradually they crept North again, along the banks of these

twin rivers, building thriving towns and developing the land in

between into a great and thriving agricultural center.

W e had now crossed the Euphrates. It was daw n, and we

were encouraged that we were ahead of our schedule, for we

had encountered no severe dust storms. The distance between

here and Baghd ad was but twentyfive miles. The Tigris and

Euphrates veered sharply toward each other from this point

Southward. The desert was now intermittently broken by spots

of green, where irrigation canals brought the lifegiving water

to the parched soil. Soon we began to bounce through ruts

which follow ed the contour of a road, and to see straggling riderson burros and camels. Bag hdad was now a matter of minutes

away. It is the foremost city of Mesopotamia, which name



means, it is said, oil. The present population is in excess of

250,000. Th e city is also now the capital of Iraq which is said

to be the old name of this land, and which was restored to it

after the recent world war. The ruts now gave way to a fairly

well graded, but unpaved road. W e came to a stop at a one

story, white stucco building around which stood a number of

persons dressed in W estern attire. This was the end of our

present desert journey. Ba gh dad ? I inquired of the driver.

No, he replied, the military airport and customs.’ Wê

cleared the customs rem arkably soon. Our unusual amount of

camera equipment aroused considerable curiosity, but no official

protest. Negotiating the rental of a small, private car of Ameri-

can make, we proceeded with a native driver to Baghdad, a

quarter of a mile distant. Suddenly, w e came upon the wide

expanse of the historical 1igris River. Murky brown and fast

moving, it was a welcome sight after the long hours of the desert,

especially since its shores were fringed with brilliant, refreshing

green vegetation, a relief to our eyes.



Chapter XIII

B e f o r e u s , stretcking across tkis historical Tigris river and

jo in ed togetker at tkeir ends, was a parallel line o f pontoons,

floating inflated metal tubes. H ea vy planks were fastened across

tkem horizontally. Tk is was a pontoon bridge which Am ericans

or Europeans never see, except during military campaigns or intimes of emergency. Across it, in both directions, flow ed a stream

of hum anity. A s our car entered upon the first unit o f it, the

bridge sank deeply into the water, but did not submerge and

easily held the weight. A s the car ran upon the next section,

the preceding one w e had left rose again. It caused a peculiar

bobbing motion, which agitated the river’s surface and sent out

a backw ash or current on either side. Lo ok ing down and up

stream, we saw, at about quarter-mile intervals, three other simi

lar bridges. These bridges, the on ly ones of any kind in exis

tence there, were put dow n by the British during the last W o r ld

Wâr for the movement of their troops and armament across the

large river. In their cam pa ign against the Turks, G reat Britain

lost a great number of men within the vicinity of Baghdad, but

was even tually successful. Th ese pontoon bridges w ere very

crude, and very old, but far superior to the ancient ferry methods,and were now maintained by the Iraqian government.

Ahead of us, on the East bank, lay Baghdad, a strange sky

line indeed . T h e structures were o f no particular des ign; they

were not definitely Oriental, Byzantine, Moorish, or European,

but a sort of abortion — as though they were going through a

transition of Eastern architecture into W es tern . T h e hotels,

so-called, had strange and crude balconies superimposed, which

hung, so it seemed to us, precariously over the banks of the river.

Most of the structures were very low, shanty-like, and sprawling,

without any particular design, and even at this distance sug



gested neglect and perhaps filth. Originally, Bagh da d lay en-

tirely on the Eastern bank of the river, but for the past thousand

years it has been partly on the East and partly on the W est. A

traveler who visited it in 15 83, said of it, " A town not very great,

but very populous, of great traffic between Persia, 1 urkey and

Ara bia . Time has not changed this. Baghdad is the gateway

for caravans to Persia, the border of which is but a few miles

distant. Southward lies A rabia and northward, Turkey. In the

Eighth Century it was purely an Arab town; in the Ninth Cen-

tury it had reached the height of its power under an enlightened

Caliphate, and was a center of power and learning. It was rich

in silks and tile buildings, and it was of the Baghdad of the

Ninth Century that the glamorous tales of the Arabian Nights

were written. Its downfall came about 1258 when Hulaku and

his Mongols swarmed over it and ruined the network of magnifi-

cent irrigation canals which had converted the parched land

around it into a rich and fertile plain. In the Fifteenth Century

it succumbed to Turkish invasion. The nearby little village,

Hilla, preserves more of the original, truly Oriental nature of the

ancient city than does Baghdad, which is a hodgepodge of in-

fluences, the result of numerous conquests and migrations.

Perhaps one of the most impressive things to see in Baghdad

is what is known as a Caravanserai, which operates in the form

of a bank, and in which money customs and trade are carried

on in the same manner as they ha ve been for centuries. T o visit

one of these places is to be transplanted backward, in point of

time, for centuries. O n the outside it is just another mud-brick

building, substantial, somewhat resembling our large ware

houses in Am erica. W h e n you enter it takes you a moment or

two to get adjusted to the darkness inside, in contrast to the

glaring light from wh ich you entered. Th ere before you is a

great area >no partitions or rooms, just high posts, at intervals

of a few feet around the wall, which support a mezzanine floor

about ha lf the heigh t of the entire bu ilding. In this great area

before you are piled bales, wrapped in skins of animals, or in



wha t looks like coarse burlap. A pungent odor prevails, a

m ingling of pleasant spices and not-too-pleasant smells. U p

above on the mezzanine floor are little dingy booths — w e m ight

term them “ offices — in which bank ing operations are carried

on, using the same primitive methods of several centuries ago.

These men are financiers, and they loan money for the or

gan ization of caravans to go to distant lands perhaps Pers ia

or A ra b ia « there to purchase, as cheap ly as possible, and bring

back such cargoes as they feel can be sold to the best advantage.

W h e n the cargo is returned, it is brought into this huge building

and sold to the highest bidder. From the receipts, the banker

or financier takes his principal and his interest, if there is suffi

cient to meet both; and the caravan organizer receives what is

left, if any. If he is fortunate, he makes a substantial profit; if

unfortunate, he not only makes no profit but finds himself still

indebted to these financiers, most of whom are Persians. H ere

one sees trade and barter and business undisturbed by the mod

ern methods of the W es te rn world.

W it h the exception of Rash id Street, which is the main

thoroughfare of Baghdad, the majority of the streets are very

narrow, alley-like, dark, unclean, swarming with flies attracted

by refuse w hi ch is permitted to lie until it becomes putrid. A ga in

one is attracted by the great number of natives with infected

eyes — men, women, and children. A clear, normal pa ir of

eyes is an unusual sight, strange as it m ay seem. Th e lack o f

sanitation and hygiene causes this infection of the eyes in early

childhood. H avin g a superstitious fear of medical treatment,

they avoid physicians, of which there are only a few anyway.

W e noticed a number of these natives with a painted red circle

around the infected eye. Wê were informed that some few wh o

had received medical treatment had had applied to their eyes

some medicine which colored the skin temporarily with a redhue, and because it gave them relief, they attributed to the red

some efficacy; and thus they used a red ink of their own making



to paint around tke eyes, believing the color itself, rather than

the ingredients, to be remedial.

No attempt was made in any of the native markets to keepthe food clean or to protect it from filth. Hawksters sold their

bread and cakes from curbs, stacking them on the walks and

peddling them with their filthy hands.

The craftsmanship of these people, however, is remarkable

and is extremely educational to watch; especially is this so in

the copper bazaar. This bazaar is really like a street covered

with an arched roof. It is divided into little pens. In each of

these little pens, or booths, some craftsman sets up his shopin which he manufactures his wares. A ll of the wares in this

bazaar or street are made of copper. Here one finds magnificent

copper samovars, copper teakettles, basins and bowls, ornaments

and candlesticks. W alkin g down this alleystreet, one can see

copper being fashioned in every form and see it in different

stages of manufacture. Back against the wall, in the darkness

01 the booth, at midday i—> which is ordinarily extremely hot even

in the open r-—are little boys, not more than eight or nine yearsof age, who are earning their apprenticeship by pumping the

bellows of charcoal fires to keep tools hot or to heat copper plate.

One can hardly see them tor the smoke and metal fumes which,

even where we stood, caused us to turn our heads away so as

not to inhale them and irritate our throats. Wê can understand

when we see this why so many of these people die of consump-

tion early in life. It is remarkable that anyone survives these

conditions to reach manhood.

They are a jolly lot, goodnatured, curious about Westerners.

Very few tourists ever reach Baghdad; it has not quite the atmos

ph ere for the one who likes his tennis courts, swimming pools,

afternoon tea, drives, cocktail hours, and a few holes of golf.

These things do not go with Baghdad; here is the East un

\eneered. If one accepts a drink, either water or a local concoc-

tion — sweet, brightly colored — he is taking his life in his hands,

for the W esterner ’s system is not immune to the things which the



natives survive. In the hotels — that is. the two where O cc i

dentals stop when they do visit Baghdad — the water is purified

through a special process. T o drink any other water is riskingone s life in no uncertain way.

In Baghdad there is also one of the largest leprosy hospitals

of the Near East; the contributing conditions we saw about us

at eve ry step. A n d yet there are some inspiring sights as well.

To M iss Gertrude Bell must go credit for establishing in the

N ea r East one o f the first museums for the collection of the

antiquities of this ancient land. A n attractive building, unusu

ally clean, houses her marvelous collection. Th e pa lace o f the

late ki ng o f Ira q is also an unusual pla ce to visit, as it is now a

state museum, and is so simple in contrast to what one imagines

the ancient caliphs had. M os t of the exhibits, unfortunately,

consist of just his own personal belongings — his riding habit,

the costumes he wore on different state occasions. and little

personal trinkets given to him as gifts by the Shah of Persia,

Sultans o f Turkey, and some of the Ki ngs o f Europe.

O n the W es ter n edge of B aghdad lies the great race track.

Here, each year in the fall, are races in which the horses are

entered by Bedou ins, Ch ieftains, Khurds, and Persians. It is

purely sport with them, and is not the commercial venture that

racing is in the W es te rn world. Th e finest blooded A ra bia n

stock is entered, and buyers and breeders of horses from all over

the world come to this annual series of races to bid for the winner

for breed ing purposes. A s the racing was to begin about a weekafter we were to take our departure from Baghdad, several were

already training their horses on the track, and we marveled at

the speed, grace and beauty of these rather small horses.

After having taken a number of still photographs of unusual

places and scenes in Baghdad, we entered a small doorway on

Rashid Street and found in the dim interior the most magnificent

display of Persian and A ra bia n rugs we had ever seen. Th ere

was no attempt at ostentation; the mgs were piled high over the

floors and fastened on pegs around the wa lls. A brass, hand-



hammered, ancient oil lamp was the only means of illumination.

I he rugs were covered with dust, yet were in excellent condition.

Pricing a large rug of beautiful design, I was surprised to learn

that all the rugs were thirty-five years or older. M ore surprising

still were the un be lievab ly cheap prices. Th e large rug before

me cost but $20.00, and in America, England, or Canada it

wou ld have brought easily twenty-five times that price. Seein g

that I was interested, the gracious proprietor drew the rug out

from the others and bade us follo w him, which we did. G oin g

through a little passageway, we suddenly came out on another

of the splendid little gardens which are in back of the home of

each fairly prosperous merchant in Ba ghd ad . N o matter how

dark, how filthy, or how squalid his place of business or his

living quarters, if he can at all afford it you will find in back

of them a gem of a little Persian garden — mosaic tiling, running

water, fountain, and an artistic array of green shrubbery, open

to the blue sky above.

Clapping his hands in Eastern fashion, he summoned his

assistants and ordered them in A ra b ic to clean the rug. Th is

they did by filling their mouths with water from a pail, and then

spraying it out on the rug. 1 hen, taking their hands, they rubbed

the nap vigorously, which brought back the brilliance of the

colors. 1 he rugs were all made from ca m el’s hair, and in broken

English he explained that most of these rugs are not made by

factories or any place organized for the commercial production

of rugs, but are a pastime and a fam ily or tribal industry. Th e

rugs are brought in by the Bedouins, or desert wanderers, two

or three at a time, and fo r these they receive a paltry sum. Th is

merchant exported his rugs to various parts of the world where

they would sell at fabulous prices.

By this time we had visited a number of mosques, but no

mosque was more splendid, more lavish, more like a jewel set

in squalor, than the G old M osq ue of Kadhim ain. Th e towers

and minarets, and the central dome itself, were all of pure gold



and fascinated the impoverished natives —>a symbol of wealth

and riches surrounded by poverty, disease, and filth. It was

something, however, to lift the thoughts o the people from theircircumstances — to give them some appreciation of the beautiful

and the sublime, something they could not bring into their own

lives, something that could not exist in their homes. W e stood

and listened to the intriguing wail and prayer of the muezzin

(the Mohammedan priest). It was with extreme difficulty that

we were able to take cinematographic pictures of this mosque,

as one must avoid offending the religious principles of these

people.

A t night the scene changes. Peacefu l side streets have lurk-

ing assassins in them. A person who dares to venture down

them unarmed will be slain and robbed. The Iraqian police

force, efficient in many ways, is incapable of policing the entire

area. Th e people are mostly barbarians, and seem strangely

attired even when they do wear W estern clothes. Th e Bedouins

who bring cargoes across the desert, or who came to trade withthe city dwellers, enter the city nightly for entertainment, and

they visit the native cabarets or cafes in which dancers go

through sensuous gyrations which, in addition to the native

liquor, help intoxicate their senses. 1 he Bedouins are power-

fully built men, all of six feet or more in height, large boned;

typical of their racial characteristics they have large aquiline

noses, big, bony hands and large feet. Ordinarily they are mild

mannered and extremely generous, but temperamental and

easily offended. Frater Brower and I visited a native eating

place one noon and were the only Westerners present; had we

known this, we would not have entered. A ll the rest were

Bedouins attired in flowing robes, sandals, armed with dirks.

Looking us over curiously, they immediately came forward, prof-

fered us cigarettes and cups of Arabian coffee which one must

acquire a habit for over a long period of time; and since I hadnot been in Baghdad that length of time, I could not become

accustomed to the molasseslike substance and quininelike taste.



Another unforgettable scene is the river with its strange modes

of transportation. Very few motor craft are seen — mostly barges

that are moved by long skiffs or poles. 1 he strangest boat of allseen anyw here in the world is the gufah. It is a sewingbasket

Iike boat, about six feet in diameter, and woven of a river reed;

being perfectly circular it has neither bow nor stern. It is guided

by a pole, and it is indeed an amusing sight to see these baskets

floating downstream, loaded with cargo and with their oneman

crew. Th ese strange boats have navigated the Tigris River for

centuries. Herodotus, ancient historian, in his accounts of his

travels through Babylonia, mentions these gufah boats and ex-

plains how the natives far North of Baghdad make these boats,

put on board their wares and a burro, and sail downstream with

them for miles to market; there they sell their wares, break up

the boat, sell it as firewood, and ride home again on the burro.

Burros are not common in Baghdad, and neither are trucks.

Human beings are the cargo bearers. Here we see coolies for

the first time in the East •— white men staggering along underunbelievable burdens, enormous timbers which must weigh at

least 300 pounds or more. These men will carry anything that

it is humanly possible to carry, and for a few cents a mile they

carry coal, iron, or cans of petroleum. The muscles of their legs

and backs are abnormally developed, and unless they cease

their activities of carrying these tremendous weights day in and

day out early in life, they soon die. Most of them become

afflicted with varicose veins, the result of overdevelopment of the

muscles and the consequent causing of an exceptional flow of

blood through the arteries.

It is pitiful to see a human being competing with animals as

burden bearers. You can hire a hum an being to carry cargo .—•

furniture, case goods, anything — cheaper than you could pos-

sibly hire either a camel or a burro for short hauls in and around

the city. T hey live on rice and water ■— unclean water. Theirincome hardly exceeds thirtyfive or forty cents a week if they



work steadily; and yet they seem muck more intelligent tkan

peoples we kad seen in otker lands. 1 key do not kave tke vacu -

ous look in tkeir eyes >—tkat kopeless, despairing look. Tk ev are bright and ckeerful. Tkeir fatkers and grandfathers before

tkem kave carried loads as tkey do. A steady stream of tkem

cross pontoon bridges from one bank of tke river to tke otker,

like ants, carrying for a mile or more wkat an ordinary man

could kardly lift.

But Bagkdad was not our final destination in tkis country.

W e were to go Soutkeast to Babylo n — the Babylon of Biblical

times tke Babylon of kistory. It was with enthusiasm andexpectancy tkat we prepared for our next adventure. W e found

it difficult to secure porters to accompany us. A lw ays entkusi

astic, koping to earn some extra money, until tkey learned tkat

our destination was Babylon; tkey offered tken excuses tkat

seemed strange to us ,—■no, tkey did not wisk to go to Babylon.

W e tried to draw out of tkem wky. Wê wou ld pay tkem

well ; it was not a great journey; our equipment was not unusu -

ally keavy. Tk ey avoided making any explanation — and wouldlook at eack otker as we urged tkem, witk a knowing, furtive

glance tkat was not only annoying but uncanny. If we skowed

irritation at tkeir reluctance to aid us, tkey kastened to suggest

someone else wko —>perhaps — wou ld go instead. 1 keir con-

duct keigktened an emotional state I was experiencing, wkick,

so far, I kad carefully concealed from my companion, because

if it kad become visible. I would not kave been able to explain

it. Fo r tke last twentyfour kours, in fact, since crossing tkeMesopotamian Desert, I was conscious tkat I was suppressing

an intense excitement tkat kept my celiac plexus in constant

agitation. I kad endeavored to analyze tkese strange feelings

and pkysical discomforts I was undergoing. It was not fear *—

for wkat kad I to fear It was not exuberance, for tkere was no

reason to anticipate tkat tkis next episode in our adventures and

travels would be more thrilling tkan w kat kad gone before —<

yet tke sense of excitement and agitation was peculiarly familiar



to me. The sensations were like those I had often experienced

when returning after an absence of several months at school

to rejoin my parents. The gripping in the region of the solar

plexus and the quickening of the pulse were also like the sensa-

tions I had often had when anticipating, at any moment, the

presence of a deeply loved personality, or again seeing a scene

ot which I was very ônd, or about which I had pleasant memo-

ries. It was with difficulty that I controlled my speech, so as not

to reveal these feelings. Something, somewhere in this environ-

ment or in the thought of our forthcoming journey, was stimulat-ing and arousing to great intensity the psychic centers of my

being 1 was not conscious of the reason for it or the source

ot it — at least not at this time.



J

Chapter XIV

A M ID T H E D U S T O F T H E A G E S

T h e p a v e m e n t had ended nearly an hour ago. Baghdad was

no longer in sight. Riding, even though in a modern car, was an

exertion rather than a pleasure, and we were thrown violently

from one side to another as the car attempted to negotiate the

ruts that served as a road. The actual distance from Bag hda d

to the ancient site of Babylon is but sixty miles, but it requiresnearly three hours to make the journey. Though it was only

10:00 A. M. the sun had already become uncomfortably warm,

and the powderlike dust of the plain over which we traveled,

churned by the wheels of the car, choked and irritated our

throats and eyes. W e had left the Tigris Rive r and were head-

ing westward toward its twin, the Euphrates, on whose banks

the city of Babylon was originally located. Wîth the waters of

the Tigris we left behind us all vegetation, all vestiges of life,even color. Before us was a flat terrain covered everywhere

with the whitish dust. It was, strange to say , not desertlike in

appearance, not like a land that had always been barren, but

like a place that had been laid to waste. I thought of it as some

vigorous being that had been trapped and, after life had ebbed

from its form, had gradually crumbled until its impalpable parts,

flung free, had settled down on all things around.

In my imagination I visualized that a deluge of water here wou ld cause not only a cohesion of these dust particles, but a

magical reassembly and restoration of the magnificent forms that

once composed the civilization of this region.

The stillness, when we stopped for a few moments, was appal-

ling and hung heavily about us. W e felt as though we were shut

within a glass sphere which the slightest sound might shatter,

permitting the inrush of strange cries, freakish laughter, and the

wails of the millions who had lived and died here centuries ago.



Ominous as the quiet was, we contributed to it by not speaking,

because tbe human voice sounded unnatural, even hideous, like

a cry from the depths of a cavern.

I was not unmindful of the predictions of the Hebrew prophets

taken into captivity by Nebuchadnezzar when he destroyed

Jeru salem in 586, B. C . that the splendor and glory of Babylon

would so crumble that future man, looking at its utter desolation

and ruin, would marvel that such a place could have ever been

a site of power and beauty. It truly was as though that land had

been visited by the wrath of a god. W e were not alone in ourfeelings, for our native porter and driver was strangely quiet

as well. He seemed to have a reluctance to reach our destina-

tion quickly, and even when the roadway permitted he did not

accelerate the car speed. W a s there, I wondered, any connec-

tion between this combination of sentiments which we had about

the land and the difficulty we had experienced in engaging a

porter for the journey?

Rising suddenly into view about a mile to our right were a

series of mounds. A t this distance they never would have at-

tracted the attention of tourists or casual travelers, but to us who

knew of their existence they were the remains of Babylon which

we sought. Babylon was of little importance before the Third

Millennium B . C . In fact, its prominence came with H am -

murabi s rise to power, and when it became the capital of Baby-

lonia, it dominated this whole surrounding land.

Babylonia owed its importance to three conditions; namely,

geographical, political, and spiritual. Preceding Babylon in im-

portance was the city of Kish, not far distant, located on the

banks of the Euphrates at that time. Later the river changed

its course away from Kish to Babylon, and because of this Baby-

lon acquired suzerainty of the entire land. A t this point but a

narrow stretch of land separates the two big rivers of the va Hey,the Tigris and the Euphrates. To the north originally was the

great fertile area of the Tigris, and to the south, the wide plain



that borders on the Persian G ull. Travel centuries ago, as now,

was best along the river edges in the valley proper. 7 his forced

all traffic through Babylon, in the middle, and gave Babylon

her dominant political position.

The third factor, or the spiritual one, was the city religion of

Babylon. Th e principal god of Babylon was Marduk. Th e

people had personal pride in him, and desired that he be given

priority over the other gods of the entire country, and its sur-

rounding nations. Even kings and princes were forced to submit

to the rites of respect to this god, which amounted nearly to their

coronation by the priesthood. No ventures or activities were per-mitted which were not done in the name of this god. For a great

time this religious influence bound all contemporary life closely

with Babylon, and made her a religious mecca, as well as a place

of commercial importance. Th is religious supremacy was made

possible mainly by fear. W h en any prominent person who had

not recognized Marduk or his priesthood suffered a calamity,

the priesthood attributed the misfortune to a punishment by the

god. W ,hen the Assyrian king, Sennacherib, who leveled Baby-lon in his siege of that city in the Sixth Century B. C. died, his

death was said by the priesthood to have been caused by his

failure to pay homage to their god Marduk.

W e had come to an abrupt stop at the foot of one of these

mounds which were about twentyfive feet in height, and now

that we were close to them we observed that they were about

one hundred yards in length, and fifty yards across. Viewin g

them from where we stood, they seemed to be a natural forma-tion — certainly not manmade Actu ally , these mounds covered

by debris and the dust of the centuries, were the remains of

palaces, walls, canals, temples, and towers of Babylon and

later civilizations. W e struggled up the steep sides of one, lug-

ging our heavy camera equipment, and sneezing with the dust

raised by our feet which broke through the surface crust baked

by the sun. W e perspired little for the air, as in Egypt, was



exceedingly dry and absorbed the moisture as it appeared.

The sun s rays were now fierce; their burning effect on our ex-

posed skin was like that of drawing a sharp blade across the

flesh, smarting and stinging.

From our elevation the whole plain for miles around was re-

vealed. To our W est some distance from these ruins was a

fringe of green grass and palms stretching in a straight line

nearly North and South as far as the eye could see. This growth

marked the banks of the Euphrates R iver . Its course in ancient

times ran close to these mounds and fed the canals of the ancient

city. The brilliance and varied shades of green of the vegeta-tion caused us to realize how magnificent the gardens and sur-

rounding terrain must have been during the glory of Babylon

when she was queen of the ancient world.

After she was demolished by Sennacherib, Nebuchadnezzar

in 604561 B. C. returned from his destruction of Jerusalem to

restore Babylon s splendor, and the temples of her revered gods.

There before us, like a refuse heap, lay part of his handiwork,

the ruins of his great palace. It looked like a crater caused by

the explosion of a great shell, for it was merely a large ugly hole.

It must have been two hundred feet square. From where we

stood it looked as though heaped high in the center was a mass

of rock or chunks of dried soil. Adjoining this large crater were

smaller ones, subdivided with partiallyupright partitions or

walls. These were the remains of the same structure and parts

of others. Towering above all to the right, the largest structurestill standing in Babylon was the Ishtar Ga te. Th e remains are

two squarelike towers of mudbrick, once faced with splendidly

glazed and colored tile and ornamented with figures of animals,

a few of which are still visible.

Nebuchadnezzar had married a Median princess of extreme

beauty and culture, whom he greatly loved, so the legends tell

us. He brought her from her mountainous and beautiful

home country of Persia to the flat, dusty, and ugly land of Baby



Ionia. H e set about rebuilding Babylon, and he constructed

great walls of defense, one within the other, making it the

greatest fortified city of antiquity. Meanw hile, his beautiful bridepined for the beauty of the mountains of her homeland with

their fragrant shrubs, flowers, and refreshing verdure. Learning

of her loneliness, it is recounted that he decided to build her an

artificial mountain on which she could dwell. Thus was begun

his great palace which became one of the seven wonders of the

world which we refer to as The Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

The structure, as most of them in Babylon and Assyria, was

built of mud brick and then fired to compose a tile or faience.

It was built in tiers each slightly recessed so that the whole com-

posed an enormous terraced tower, and along each terrace were

planted magnificent trees and tropical plants and vines which

hung low on the sides, causing it to be known as The Hanging

Gardens. A t the top of the tower was the palace and living

quarters of Nebuchadnezzar and his bride. He had the waters

of the Euphrates diverted into great canals around the palacebase, and on either side of them were magnificent tiled walks,

and in them artistic boats leisurely floated carrying musicians

and men and women of his court.

The great Ishtar Gate was built to commemorate the Baby-

lonian goddess Ishtar, a composite of all the female Babylonian

goddesses. She was a deity of nature and beauty, also known

as the weeping mother because it was thought that she inter-

ceded in behalf of man whenever he was to be punished severely

for his sins against Marduk. A planet was named after her,

and it is thought it was the same one which the Greeks later

called Venus. In fact, authorities believe Venus was the Grecian

counterpart of Ishtar. From this gateway to his palace, N eb u-

chadnezzar built a roadway which became known as the sacred

way. Along it at the new year festival in March a processional

carried an image of Marduk. After homage w as paid to himat the numerous temples, he was then placed on the river barge

and conveyed to the northern section of the city. Through this



gateway, which we carefully photographed, had marched the

conquering army of Xerxes, and later. Cyrus, who successfully

in the Sixth Century B. C. routed the combined Lydian, Baby-

lonian and Egyptian forces which opposed him. Also through

this gateway tramped the legions of Darius. Cyrus’ successor.

Darius, admiring the beauty and culture of the city, attempted

to preserve it.

W e endeavored to persuade our porter to climb among these

ruins with us. W e offered him an additional fee to carry the

camera equipment. He refused. Fearing that if we insisted toostrongly, he might leave entirely, we desisted and slid with an

O N C E M I G H T Y B A B Y L O N

O f all of the remains of civilization to be seen in A sia M inor andEgypt, those of Babylon, shown above, are the most demolished and

depressing, as captive Hebrew prophets predicted they would become,

centuries ago.(Photo by AMORC)



avalanche of dust and hard particles following us down into

the center of the demolished Nebuchadn ezzar’s palace. Th e

surface blocks in the piles about us were just mud bricks, sev-eral of them still adhering to each other, and slowly returning

to the dust from which they were made, and they received little

attention from us. Slo wly we began the laborious business of

digging deeper in the thousands of years old rubbish about us

for what might have been left or overlooked by the German

archaeological expeditions of 1914 and earlier which had

worked here. Since the W orld W ar, no real attempt had

been made to continue the great excavation work jn Babylonbegun by the Germans. Th e Iraqian government, which con-

trols the ruins, discouraged further excavations, not by its atti-

tude or by actual prohibition, but because of the instability of

the government. A n expedition might obtain a permit from the

present government to excavate extensively and establish a re-

search base at the site of the ruins, with thousands of dollars

worth of equipment, work diligently for several years and recover

much valuable material, and then suddenly a government upsetoccur, and the succeeding authorities prohibit the excavators

from continuing or from removing the fruits of their labors; or

might even, as has been done elsewhere, give the materials

which they recovered to some other institution or country.

W e worked diligently, our thoughts occupied not with what

we now saw before us, but with a mental picture of this site in

ancient days, the days of its magnificence. W e thought o f the

great engineering skill of these people, how they had driven intothe Tigris and the Euphrates rivers piles to enlarge their land,

how they had built beautiful parks laid out in geometrical de

signs. W e thought of the splendid gold work wh ich they ac

complished, of the gorgeous jewelry and furnishings with which

the palaces were amply supplied, of swimming pools, race

courses, fields of grain and vegetables, herds of cattle and sheep.

W e also thought of the Hammurab i code of laws, with its ex

cellent system for courts and judges, its protection of the person



and of property rights, with its sound provisions for divorce, its

regulation of taxes, and of the stern punishment it meted out.

W e thought of the temple liturgies, the chanting and singing,

the wailing and prayers.

A cry from Frater Brower brought me to his side. He had

found the first of what we had hoped to find, a large mud brick,

a building block about a toot square inscribed in cuneiform, the

peculiar wedgelike writing of the Babylonians and Assyrians.

A s we held held it in our hands we diligently and reverently

examined it. N early four thousand years ago, some human like

ourselves, a craftsman, had carefully written this inscription with

his reed stylus in preparation for including this block with

thousands of others in the walls of the palace of Nebuchadnez-

zar. W h at was he like, this ancient craftsman? W^hat was his

life, and what did he think of the future, four thousand years

hence? Could he have imagined a people from a very distant

land, like ourselves, examining his handiwork centuries after

his death? From the time the workman cemented this blockin place, using the natural soil, until now, when we lifted it

from the dust into which it fell, it is very probable that no other

hand had ever touched it. W e were at this moment living in

another world, seeing and feeling things which represented life

and power to another people, that seemed as much a part of a

continuous existence to them as the things of our world do to us.

Around the ancient maker of this block, the writer of this in-

scription, had been such activity, such examples of strength —

that is, buildings, temples, troops, broad avenues, teeming thou-

sands of humans — that although he could have imagined

changes, a state of such utter desolation, oblivion, nothingness

as that into which his civilization eventually fell, would have

been beyond his thought — as far beyond it as is a similar

thought to fhe mind of the average resident of cities like New

York, London and Paris. Tim e had made the impossible pos-sible; it had vanquished all, and w e very forcefully realized



that it could do so again with the powerful civilizations now in

existence.

It is surges of thought such as we now experienced, stirringemotions such as those we now felt, that have led archaeologists

to the far corners of the earth to wrest from the past the story

of men of other times. Here, then, was another example of un i-

versal brotherhood, but universal in time as well as extent. In

archaeology we find a love not only of those who work, play and

pray today throughout the world, but a sympathetic understand-

ing of the human race since it began, and a desire to bind the

past fast to the present. The archaeologist has a pride in allhuman achievement. He believes, and rightly so, that we have

as much right to share the experiences of our fellow men of

thousands of years ago as we do those of today who are thou-

sands of miles distant from us. Afte r all, no experience is per-

sonal unless we participate in it. Th us, what others have done

before us can be as interesting and as intimate to us as those

experiences of our foreign contemporaries whi ch we seek to know

through our news channels.In the broader sense, humanity has no periods. It is a con-

tinuous flow from its beginning to its ultimate end. O nly when

we confine ourselves to a consideration of the things of our indi-

vidual lives do we get that narrow concept of humanity as hav-

ing periods or eras and assign them a relative importance to our

own day. If we think the Egyptian and Babylonian vain and

lacking in forethought because he concerned himself so fully

with only the things of his own period, then, in light of what timehas since done to his civilization, let us not make the same mis-

take of occupying ourselves solely with the things of the present

time. To us belongs a consciousness of thousands of years of

human endeavor, not just of the meager span of the few years

that compose our individual lives. If we live in the past as well

as in the present, we can live ten thousand years in one lifetime.

In other words, life begins not with our infancy, but with the

earliest birth of humanity of which we have record.





i R E L I V E A L I F E

W e b o t h c o n c e n t r a t e d our digging and proLing in the one

place in which we had made our discovery. W e were soon

rewarded for our efforts and we turned up brick after brick, each

weighing about ten pounds, all deeply and clearly inscribed in

cuneiform, some bearing the inscription of Nebu chadnezzar s

name. Turning them over, we saw that they had a sticky blacksubstance smeared on them. Looks and smells like asphaltum , ’

said Brower.

It is, I replied, the Babylon ians had asphalt or bitumen

pits, and they used this substance to coat their bricks just as we

use the same material today as a preservative on our roads and

highways. A nd you will observe,” I continued, that it has

done an excellent job .” W e hurried, for the bour was getting

late, to reduce the size of the bricks —' because of their w ei ght w with a hammer we had for the purpose. W e knocked aw ay all

except the area containing the inscriptions. Wê soon had a very

representative collection, and one quite heavy. W e intended to

take them back with us to America for the Rosicrucian Museum.

In fact, they are now part of the collection to be seen in the

Babylonian and Assyrian gallery of the Rosicrucian Museum.

In this same palace where we were making our discoveries an

outstanding tragedy had happened. Ale xand er the Great, aftersuccessfully putting to rout the army of Darius, the Persian king

who occupied Babylon at that time, and taking over Babylon

himself, was murdered in this palace at the height of his power,

and , it is said, while in a drunken stupor. N ear here, in this

series of earth mounds, was the ruins of a library. Ashu rbanipal,

last Assyrian king, and grandson of Sennacherib, built himself

a great library at Nineveh, Assyrian city located north of the

present city of Ba gh dad. Th is was centuries before the great



Alexandrian library of the Greeks. He had thousands of clay

tablets inscribed in cuneiform writing placed in jars. Th ese

stone books, for this is what they were, were placed in rows on

shelves, properly classified. There were thousands of them, de-

voted to the subjects of science, history, various phases of litera-

ture and religion. Hanging from the top of each was a little

straw tag giving the title of the tablet, or the subject of the book.

Some of these books were later filed in a library in Babylon, and

they have not yet been discovered.

1 he great library of Nineveh has been found; that is how we

know of these books and their classification, and most of its stone

books which lay in a heap when the building crumbled are now

in the British Museum in London. On some of these tablets are

found parts of the story of the flood mentioned in the Old Testa-

ment. The legend, as it also appears in the Old Testament,

tells of the hero building a large boat on which he took his wife

and a pair of each of the animals, and that all other humans,and animals were destroyed by the deluge, and that finally when

the flood subsided, he and his wife and tbe animals were left

to perpetuate themselves as the only living things. Th is story

is undoubtedly based upon an actual local flood within that

region, and of course it was thought by the early writers to have

been a deluge of the whole world. It was passed perhaps by

word of mouth, or even by tablet, to the Egyptians, thence to

the Hebrews, and it was finally incorporated in the Christian

literature.

W e loaded our camera equipment into the car, also the in-

scribed stones, for our porter would not help us with them. They

were to him taboo; that is, untouchable. A curse, so the natives

believed, would be inflicted upon those who disturbed the prop-

erty of the dead. Th e Assyrians, like the Egyptians, threatened

trespassers and those who would violate their sacred precincts

with oaths of vengeance. Ashurbanipal, for exam ple, declared

in cuneiform writing on each stone tablet of his library (each



to ok in other words), that whosoever shall carry off this tablet

or shall inscribe his name upon it side by side with my own, may

Assur and Belit (gods) overthrow him in wrath and anger, andmay they destroy his name and posterity in the land. N ow we

began to realize wb y they feared to visit this site. Strange, too,

since working in the palace rooms I felt rather ill. M y heart

was palpitating. I could no longer control physical evidence of

the intense excitement I felt, the uncontrollable feeling of sus-

pense — as though any moment something unforgettable was

about to occur. Beads of cold perspiration stood out on my fore-

head, unusu al for this climate. I felt exceptionally tired. M y

head throbbed slightly. I laughed to myself, and said, the

power of suggestion.

Relieved of our burdens, we climbed over several mounds to

another large pile of crumbling brick. It is referred to by some

authorities as the remains of the Tower of Babel, mentioned in

the Old Testament. The Babylonian s, contrary to popular

knowledge, built many large towers. 1 he one to which the OldTestam ent refers was just one of many similar structures. Th e

predecessors of the Babylonians were the Sumerians, a people

who came from a mountain land far to the north, and finally

settled on this plain which they named the Plain of Shinar. In

their home land they worshipped in temples on mountain tops

a god named En lil. He was the god of the earth. To simulate

the mountain temples they built great tower temples which were

cubelike in shape. Th e base was n early as large in area as the

height of the structure. Surrounding the base was a great stone

courtyard. O n one side three large inclines or ramps made it

possible to reach the first two levels of the tower, and from there

a gradual incline continued around the entire structure, making

it possible to reach the tower top. O n the top was the actual

temple itself in which dwelt the priests, and in which the cere-

monies were conducted.



Koldewey, German excavator and archaeologist, has recon-

structed, from the plans he made of the ruins of Babylonian

tower temples, complete models showing how they actually ap-

peared in ancient times. The highest of these towers was prob-

ably some four hundred feet, which, like the great Pyramid of

Gizeh, looked by comparison to the surrounding level terrain

much greater. O f course, to the captive Hebrews, this god of the

Babylonians was a false one, and the worship of him on such a

high edifice, reaching, it seemed, into the clouds, was a defiling

of the sanctuary of their own god, consequently the story of theTow er of Ba bel. Th ese tower temples contributed to later ar-

chitecture and were first copied during the Hellenistic period.

The worlds first lighthouse, on Pharos Island, outside the an-

cient port of Alexandria, Egypt, was a copy of these tower

temples. It, in turn, became the model for the Moham medan

minarets. In the BabylonianA ssyrian G alle ry of the Rosicru-

cian Museum, which collection is now one of the largest in

W este rn United States, is a great number of these tablets andcones having inscribed on them liturgies and commercial cor-

respondence; all of which were removed from the ruins of these

ancient temples.

A s we pondered among these ruins, in our mind s eye we

could see the Hebrew slaves, naked except for loin cloth, with

matted hair and beards, fettered with bronze chains and anklets,

toiling, sweating, and stumbling in their misery and near exhaus-tion, in the blazing sun under the lash of the whips of their

Babylonian captors, making and carrying the brick which was

raising a tower for the worship of the god of their oppressors,

offering prayers silently for their deliverance—prayers, the echoes

of which still ring in the chapters of the O ld Testament. Cruelty,

yes. Unnecessary — yes, also. But the custom neither began

with the Babylonians nor did it end with them. This much

can be said of the Babylonians: Their persecution of the Jews was not primarily a religious one, but a political one. Judea



being a subordinate state and a rebellious one, its warriors

became political prisoners of the Babylonians, not religious ones.

Other prisoners were treated likewise by them. Today, now,

the Jews suffer persecution again, but in this day and age it is

not principally political persecution but religious or racial perse-

cution, which is a far greater reflection upon the level of intelli-

gence of an age than the punishment of a people because of

political uprising.

I now felt rather faint — yet I was surprised that I was not

alarm ed at my condition. Th ere was a proclivity to let go — toslip into either sleep or oblivion. To watch Frater Brow er and

listen to him seemed such an effort. On the other side of my

objective consciousness, and seemingly deep within, was an

appealing sense of ease, of comfort, of relaxation, that tugged

strongly at my consciousness. Th e world around me was per-

turbing. I was like one on a threshold of a portal leading to a

chamber of quiet and soothing atmosphere, and yet reluctant

to cross over and leave my present distraction. 1 be struggle was tremendous — but objectively I was losing. It was too diffi-

cult to draw myself back into my immediate surroundings. I

must submit to the impelling urge. W ith that ultimate resigna-

tion came not just gratification but afflatus. Eth ereal throngs

pushed by me, jostled me. Fam iliar sounds came to my ears.

Wâs 1 now awakening from a dream? There before me were

the citizenry of my home land going to and fro, attired as I had

always seen them, occupied with their daily interests 1 so well

knew. I was with them — and yet I was an unseen spectator.

Vaguely I recalled another place and different peoples But to

think of them, place them, was now an effort. And why try?

Here I belonged—in Babylon . I did not want to participate in

the activities before me. just to drink them in, and each sound

and sight gave me new life, seemed to lift a burden from my

soul, and my spirits rose. I could remain this way forever, yet

something was continually annoying me—a voice, faint, distant,



but distinct, kept calling me. I could not avoid it. If I listened,

this joyous procession of my friends, Babylon itself, to which I

bad just returned, became hazy. I decided to get aw ay from

this voice, to move along with people about me, to be myself

again , to enter into their spirit and mood. I rose, but I seemed

to float; surprising to me, yet a pleasure, w as the sensation.

Here then was a pleasing freedom. I could mingle with the

throngs unobserved. I could satisfy my curiosity as I entered

the various craftsm en’s stalls. I was amused at the conversations

I overheard as I stood with the spectators who watched the

armorer fashion new shields, and who lamented the added

weight and reminisced when leather was sufficient for even the

king s guards to protect their persons when doing battle. I saun-

tered on, to come to rest before an aged lapidary worker.

Around him were grouped his keeneyed and agile apprentices.

I marvelled again, yes, as I had on many occasions, at the sym-

metry of design and the details carved in such hard stone and

with such unvarying accuracy. I was proud of the age in which

I lived—for had we not advanced far? Certainly long shall we

endure. Nowhere, not perhaps even in the land of the tyrantsof Mizraim, are men as progressive as we. I looked up in ad -

miration at the magnificent varicolored tiled walls of the Great

King s Palace . They sparkled like the rays emanating from

Marduk when they plunged into the waters of the canals. I

turned to watch the orderly steps of a squad of stalwart bowmen

as they passed to enter the portals of the sacred way of the

Goddess Ishtar. Ab ove my head and fastened to the mass of

inner walls which secured our city, beloved of the God Marduk,against the ravages of the Northern invaders, was a proclama-

tion to all free men guaranteeing tbem the protection of the God

of living things and his earthly ambassador, my most powerful

and glorious king. I had achieved, my tongue could express it-

self in signs, my words could go far beyond the sound of my

voice. I could read as well. Few could equal me. I had read,

and I had written often; my livelihood depended on my writing.



M y words shall live beyond my time. I recalled how I was often

sought to leave my message with my seal impressed, with those

who wished to ponder over my thoughts. I was more than a

scribe bound to the Temple or the court of the King —1 was a

counselor on the ways of living. It was my art to translate into

understandable language, into a code of practice and into a use-

ful order of living, the enigmatic words of Marduk which his

priests spake high in the tower temples. I was not unaware that

I was disliked, envied, possibly feared. The mighty of Mardu k s

sacerdotal army resented by intervention, my mediation betweenthem and my fellows. I was not of their holy sect. I was not

appointed for ministrations to God, yet I spake and wrote words

of wisdom as I knew them. M y thoughts were just of earth, of

man. However, I took comfort that my words in writing had

been commanded for examination by the great Lord and King.

He had favorably accepted them, for had he not given me re-

ward and the generous sanction allowed one who is honored

as a sage? He had encouraged me in an epistle from his supreme

minister to freely give my thoughts animation and permanency

—but to be ever mindful that I did not offend Marduk, creator

of all. and himself, Babylonia’s Lord and King.

A gain, once again, that fretful disturbance, that distant echo,

that now indistinct cry, seemed to possess me. I shook my head

repeatedly as though trying to shake off some physical bondage.

Then the sound of my name crashed down upon me like a bolt

of lightning. It shattered the vista before me; towers, palaces,

streets, peoples, slaves — they a ll fell into mere parts like a

jigsaw puzzle dropped abruptly on pavement. They melted be-

fore my eyes, and through the mist there appeared the face of

Frater Brower. He was speaking, but his voice w as still distant;

then it gradually grew stronger as though it were approaching

me from afar. He was shaking me by the shoulder and saying,‘ W h a t is the matter with you? W h y don t you answer me?

W e must get back. Are you il l? You are extremely pale. I



*

realize now that I must have been in a state of semiconscious-

ness. Ob jectively I had not been aware for several minutes,

perhaps, of my actual surroundings. Fo r while I had this vivid

experience, this transition to an era of nearly four thousand

years ago, my body had been seated right where it now was,

on the subfoundation wall of this tower temple. And yet, how

clear had been my experience in all its details! H ard ly like an

hallucination that comes from an ordinary lapse of objective con-

sciousness. I was ill. extremely so; I burned with fever. M y

mouth was parched and I was badly nauseated.

Tw o thoughts now dominated my consciousness. First, overand over again, like a leer, the words of the Babylonian execra-

tion imploring the gods to punish despoilers coursed through my

mind. I attempted to ridicule myself as I lay in the back of the

bouncing car heading again toward Bag hd ad . I thought of the

dozen or more volumes I had read quoting the authorities of the

world, and of the Rosicrucian teachings, all of which discredited

this superstitious belief, yet mocking me was this ailment, the

discomfitures of which gave the oaths a more vivid realism tomy semidelirious mind than anything which I could recall hav-

ing read or studied. Reason gave w ay to fantasy. I pictured

myself as the victim whose life was to be given to prove the

mysterious potency of these ancient curses. J had been chosen

to vindicate the Babylonians, to discredit the stigma modern

science had placed upon the forces which they were said to

invoke! Second was the realization that all I was now perceiv-

ing in this awakened state seemed more unreal, more dreamlike

than what I had just experienced. In fact, I felt that instead of

returning to normalcy I had lapsed into delirium, and that the

preceding occurrences were my natural state — I even yearned

to return to them. The details of what I had seen and heard

clung to my memory like a deep fragrance to the air after flowers

have been removed. Reason told me that I had, during the

entire time, been seated on that mudbrick foundation, and yet



I knew, a conviction that I could not shake, that my inner con-

sciousness had relived, not in imagination but in memory, whatit had once registered as an actual experience.

Several days of quiet, after a diagnosis of my case as mild

tropical fever combined with intestinal influenza, caused pos-

sibly by an insect bite on the desert, saw me rally sufficiently

to prepare for the trek back across the desert. Our trail was now

to lead northward and westward like the flow of the ancient

civilization whose sites we had been visiting.





S o C E A S E L E S S and yet so unchanging is the sea. To ancient

eyes that peered across its wastes from the bows of frail craft,

it too, was either a roaring fury with deep valleys whose moun-

tainous wa lls were tipped with lacy foam, or a placid glassIi ke

calm. O f all of the things of the world, the sea alone seems un-

touched by the moods of man or nature. A s w e gaze into it

today we see, mirrored in our consciousness, the same vision

which men who looked upon it in centuries past experienced.

It remains an unbroken, unscathed bond with the beginning of

time. Perhaps it was the spirit of oneness with all that had gone

before, which the inky waters instilled in me as I looked over

them from the deck of our motorship, that m ade me think of the

great personalities who had sailed this same sea.

Ju st a few hours before we had departed from the modern

docks of Istambul and now we were leaving the sea of Marmora

and entering the straits of the Dardanelles. A t this point, two

great continents, Europe and Asia, were separated by a scant

watery thread three to four miles m width. It was as if nature

had symbolized, by this geographic arrangement, that the

peoples of these enormous land areas should often embrace each

others’ customs and habits and yet by the slender thread of racialdifferences ever be separated.

The ancient name of the Dardanelles — a narrow body of

water fortyseven miles long — is the Hellespont. It separates

the Marm ora and /E ge an seas. It is related to have derived its

modern name from the city of Dardonis. Here, too, Xerxes,

Persian King in the Sixth Century7B. C., built a floating bridge

— composed of a series of small boats lashed together — and

crossed with his vast Army of the East for one of the earliest



invasions of Europe. Th is same site, within the century, had

been the scene of other great armies struggling for possession

of its natural gateway to the Black Sea, and the great territory

of Ru ssia.* During the first W or ld W ar. the Germ an and

Turkish powers had fortified the slopes on either side of tlie

Dardanelles, so as to make it almost impregnable. The British

Navy was mainly assigned the task, by the allies, of penetrating

the Straits, running the gauntlet, it may be said, and opening

the water route to the Bla ck Sea. Russia , an ally, needed this

outlet to the Mediterranean very badly. British ships were blownto bits in the mineinfested waters and by the bombardment of

heavy land batteries.

The strategy of the Turks, under German military guidance,

cost England thousands of Canadian and Australian troops.

After severe return assaults on the land batteries by the British

cruisers, one suddenly ceased firing, and after a length of time

it was believed to have been silenced. The troops prepared to

land and when they had but touched the shore an inferno broke

loose. H ea vy artillery shells crashed about them and machine

guns rattled, mowing down wave after wave of men. Retreat

from the trap was impossible and advance was suicide. Britain

became the eventual victor of the engagement by a small margin,

for which she paid a terrific price in human lives.

Turkey remains today a steadfast ally of Germany, though

making overtures of friendship to England. Every third manin impoverished Turkey is in uniform and all have the military

bearing and stamp of German training. After the W or ld W a r

1 urkey solicited a continuation of German officership of her

forces, in exchange for certain trade concessions to the Reich.

A t this time, the system is so thoroughly organized that in only

the highest ranks, and then in an advisory capacity, is it neces-

sary for German officers to remain. 1 urkey s own officers now

know only one military technique — German. In Turkey, also,* World War numLer two finds preparations for tHis struggle again resumed.



the army has the same outstanding prestige that it does in Ger-

many. N o other class of citizenry receives the privileges or the

distinctions of the army. To Am ericans and to Canadian s, this

may seem deplorable and indicating a warlike spirit. O n the

other hand, our survivalofthe fittest contest is strictly along

economic lines — clashes between capital and labor — attempts

at an adjustment of consumption and production, but with these

other powers, it means a fight for actual existence as a sovereign-

ty. To become weak in military strength is to be absorbed liter-

ally over night by a stronger nation; consequently the attitude

W IN D O W S O F TH E E A S T

From a grilled arch of the quadrangle of the blue Mosque, vve look

out upon the stately, impressive beauty of Saint Sophia, the greatest of

all of the mosques.

<Plu>to by AM O RCj



is: defense of national existence must precede economic and

cultural interests.

A slow rolling of our ship accompanied our entrance into the/E gean Sea. To our starboard side, but two or three miles dis-

tant, were the rugged mountains of the Island of Lemnos. Frater

Brower and I stepped to the railing to scan them through binocu-

lars. Deep in their clefts, near the shoreline, here and there,

were small villages appearing as though they had been washed

down from the heights to wedge fast, and there, like sheltered

vegetation, flourish. To the northwest, not more than fifty miles

beyond our range of vision, lay historic Macedonia. In what isnow known as the Thessalonike Peninsula, of Macedonia, once

existed the small outpost colony city of Stagira . In it, about 384

B. G . w as born a man who w as to fash ion the thought of the

world for over 2000 years and command its respect for centuries

more. It was here that Aristotle, son of the physician to the King

of Macedonia, and descendant of a long line of physicians, be-

gan his career.

Each island, each peak, bay or inlet about us constituted a

landmark, not in the history of races, nations, or men, but of

thought. Surrounding this small sea were born and lived more

men who contributed to the advancement of thought than in

any similar area on the surface of the earth and in the history

of man. Genius after genius sprang from the hearty mountain-

ous region. It was as though it had been impregnated by Divine

touch with the seeds of wisdom.

Over the port side loomed the silhouette of another nearby

island. Its coast line was so precipitous that it plunged from a

height directly into the sea, affording little beach. The late after-

noon sun was concealed behind its hills, causing a backlighting

and a radiant aura to extend around and sharpen its rugged

contour. This was M ytilene or the renowned island of Lesbos

which played a prominent part in Aristotle’ s life. Students of

philosophy and of Aristotleanism divide Aristotle s life into



three distinct periods. The first and perhaps the most prominent

was from his seventeenth to thirtyseventh years, when he was

a disciple and constant companion of Plato. His writings duringthis period had the formal pedagogic style of Plato’s dialogues

and his doctrines reflected the principles of his teacher. He lived

in Athens and never journeyed far from the academy.

The second period, called the Wanderjahre, was after his

master s death and was devoted to travel. His contact with other

schools of thought, and his own experiments and conceptions,

caused his writings of this period to contrast sharply with his

former ones. It was during this period of travel that he spent

two years of study on Lesbos, the island before us. Here he

gathered specimens of marine life and carefully observed their

habits. It is said that from these obser\ations there came about

his famous doctrine of development, which was the first theory

of evolution. He attempted to unite by his theory two realms

of reality — mind, or the initial ideas as Plato called them, and

matter. W h at a surge of wisdom flowed through the small chan-

nel of this one human mind! He attempted the first classifica-

tion of a ll natural phenomena — grouping inanimate matter,

plant and animal life, into separate divisions and making pos-

sible the first truly scientific study. He devised the term meta-

physics, meaning beyond physics, to define the study of the

causes of physical phenomena, in fact, the first causes of all

being. He gave the name psychology to that branch of study

concerned with the Soul and the functions of mind, thought,

sensation, perception. Mere ly as an aid to assist his reasoning

and to make his insight into the profound problems which he

considered clearer, he invented the system of formal logic, which

is still in use today with slight variation.

No greater test of wisdom or its relevancy to truth can be

had than that it be subjected to the passing of time. The titles

which Aristotle bestowed upon the divisions of reality he made

have endured, and many of his fundamental doctrines remain



unshaken by sieges of controversy. It seems incredible that one

mind could conceive such truths, become so enlightened by its

own efforts during one normal life’ s span. A s further tribute

to his greatness, may it be said that he, far more than his con-

temporaries and his later followers, realized and admitted his

limitations, th is bleak body of land, therefore, seemingly

spewed up from the sea, provided not a source of great mineral

or vegetable wealth to protect or sustain the bodies of men, but

a natural laboratory from which came ideas that nourished the

minds of men for centuries.

Eighty miles west of Stagira, Aristotle’s birthplace, waslocated the City of Pella, the ancient capital of Macedonia, over

which presided Phillip II. His fame having spread, Aristotle

was urged by Phi(lip to become the private tutor of his son,

Alexander, who was destined to become a world conqueror.

It was said he accepted the appointment because of the oppor-

tunity it provided to test his political theories. His pupil, later,

while on an expedition of conquest, had a selected staff of sages

collect and send back to Aristotle, for his examination and study,

strange plants and specimens of minerals and soil. Vicious

gossip and the jealousy of Alexander poisoned his mind toward

his master and teacher, while he was on a distant campaign.

Eventually Aristotle fled to Chalcis, on the elongated island

of Euboea, which was now directly west of us, but beyond our

vision. There he died in 322 B. C . In recent years, just outside

of where existed the small colonial city of Eretria, about twelve

miles south of Chalcis, excavators unearthed a gold stylus, ring,

and pieces of pottery which were said to be Aristotle’s. In thegrave was also found a skull, which is believed to be his as well.

Th e eastern shore of As ia had faded from our view. W e

were now directly off the coast of the ancient Ionians. During

the glory of the Greek schools of philosophy it was said that,

of all of the colonies of Attica, Ionia provided those who excelled

in the love of inquiry into nature — in other words, those who



T H E V I N E Y A R D O F W I S D O M .99

inclined toward what we consider the physical sciences. The

principal city and capital of Ionia was Miletus, in which

flourished the earliest school of philosophy. The founder was

Thales, 585 B. C., who is said to have predicted an eclipse.

There began with him a transition from the theogony of the

gods, the common belief in Greece at that time, to physical

philosophy, which sought to explain the universe along rational,

and what we might term scientific, lines. Thale s sought an ulti

mate substance, a primary element from which all things came,,

ancl he finally concluded that substance to be water. The schoolceased with the destruction of that city by the Persians in 494

B. C . N early opposite from Miletus, across the /Fge an , was

the City of Megara, where certain lesser Socratic schools, those

expounding a version of the Socratic philosophy, came into ex-

istence but never into prominence.

W ith such enjoyment had I lived in my mind the lives and

accomplishments of these astute personalities of thousands of

years past, that I had not become conscious of the hour. The

clashing sound of the dining steward s dinner gong brought me

to an awareness of a keen hunger induced by the invigorating

sea air.

W*e retired to our stateroom early, but I could not sleep. M y

imagination had been stimulated by these monuments, these

reminders of a great past civilization. Perching myself on the

berth, in a position so I could look out of the porthole, I opened

it and stared down at the water a few feet below, which seemed

to rush past. The light of the stateroom cast a faint glow upon

the sea. The small circle of light was sufficient to intensify the

darkness of the water and give the foam a contrasting scintil-

lating whiteness. W ith my back to the room, and before me

visible only this small illuminated circle of the sea, and with

the freshness of the salt air stinging my face, I had a full senseof appreciation of the beauty, majesty and wildness of this

element. For miles, on and on, the water rolled, rose to crests,



broke, IasHed, and slid into great wallows: the sky reaching

down on all sides was its only container. W h a t it held close

to its bosom fathoms below and immediately beneath me, per

haps no man w ou ld ever know. I thought if there is on earth

any power or agency of nature which displays a spirit of com

plete freedom and a disregard for the efforts of man to control

it, it is the sea. Use it man can, but ne ver is he its master.

The following morning the decks were bathed in sunlight.

It was enjoyed in sheltered corners for the air was biting. La nd

had not been seen for hours, but there was no possibility for

monotony as preparations by passengers and crew alike were

being made tor the arrival at the port of Piraeus. By the time

Frater Brower and I had repacked our cinema equipment, after

having filmed the notable sights we had passed, we were enter-

ing the G ulf of /E gin a. In this gulf some of the greatest naval

battles of the ancient world were fought. Th ese battles gave

Attica the supremacy that assured her independence and per-

haps preserved her spirit of inquiry and love of knowledge.

Persia had constantly menaced the security of Attica, under the

leadership of Darius. Xerxes, his son, at the death of his father,continued the campaigns against Greece. Success crowned first

the efforts of one side, then of the other. A powerful Persian

fleet sailed one day into the port of Piraeus, and only the strong

Athenian army stationed on the shore kept it from landing.

Themistocles, great statesman of Athens and Arcon, head of

the state, proposed that the Athenians build a large fleet to

dominate the surrounding sea and keep the Persians from cross-

ing, as in only that way, he believed Athens safe from invasion.His proposals were well received and finally 180 ships were

built and put to sea. Th e Athenian fleet eventually met and de-

feated the Persian fleet in a great naval combat in the waters

immediately surrounding the Island of Salamis, slightly north

and west of Piraeus, whose harbor we were now slowly entering.

W e had been standing in line alongside wooden benches in

the customs shed, where our baggage was piled awaiting in



spection, for nearly an hour. O ur estimation of the department s

efficiency was greatly diminishing, as was our patience. There

was an obvious shortage in personnel, which at the time ap-peared to us an imposition on travelers. The inspectors were

gracious enough, but their courtesy did not lessen our agitation.

It was not until the next day that we became aware that Greece s

severe economic plight was responsible for the undermanned

staff. For centuries Greece had been under the domination of

Turkey. Du ring the Ottoman Empire it was divided into many

districts by Turkey, and like other subjugated nations of the

Ottoman Empire, it was bled of resources and of the opportuni-

ties of internal expansion. Not long after obtaining its inde-

pendence and following its participation in the W orld Wâr,

it was plunged into revolution — a struggle between monarchy

and republic. Its people are thrifty and its resources, though not

many, are in demand, but it has been and is still at the mercy

of its more powerful neighboring states, which prevent it from

obtaining the concessions it needs for a successful economic life. Archaeological collection began in Greece as early as the

Seventeenth Century. The ruins of its great edifices were so

impressive that they were bound to excite curiosity and interest.

It was not until the Nineteenth Century, however, that a real

scientific examination of the antiquities of Greece was begun.

To Lord Byron, English poet, 17881824, must go the credit for

reawakening world interest in the magnificent history that was

Greece's, and the decaying arts which lay in Athens just below

the debris of centuries.

Byron, a cripple, who travelled for health, romance, and ad-

venture, through Europe where his works were more appreciated

than in England, visited Greece and immediately felt a strong

affinity for its traditions and people. 1 o commemorate an his-

toric event, he swam the Hellespont. Inspired by his studies

there, he returned to England to compose his greatest works.Later he returned to Greece to interest himself in its political



strife. He spent a considerable amount of his personal fortune

to aid in her liberation. He was once offered, in return, the

GovernorGeneralship.

Athens nestled between two mountains. Mt. Hymettus and

Mt. Pentelicus, the former having always been renowned for

its honey and the latter for its excellent marble. Nature had

endowed Athens with excellent elements for defense. Slightly

inland, with elevations that made the sea visible and prevented

sudden naval attack, and with a surrounding plain whose soil

provided essential foods, such as olives, fig groves, vineyards,

and good pasturage, its people were soon able to give themselves

over to pursuits other than the mere acquiring of sustenance.

Speaking of the climate, which is never extreme, one of the

ancient philosophers wrote of it: The clear bracing air fostered

intellectual and esthetic pursuits and endowed them with mental

energy.

Our stay in Athens was not to be lengthy and we had much toaccomplish. Consequently, after depositing our baggage at our

quarters, we immediately set out to photograph those things

which would be representative of the Hellenic civilization.

Sporadic showers did not discourage us. The most commanding

and nevertobeforgotten sight is the Acropolis, a large promon-

tory, 1000 feet in length or about two of our city blocks, on

which temples to the gods and fortresses with protective wallshave been erected since Neolithic times.

Modern Archaeology has located the remnants of the numer-

ous gates of Themistocles’ wall which surrounded it and through

which trod many of the eminent of Greece’s past. Not far from

the Dipylon G ate w as the Academ y of Plato, where his students

came to hear his learned discourses and to hear him inveigh

against the Sophists. But a short distance from still another gate

is said to be the site of the Lyceum, the school of the peripatetics,

where Aristotle expounded truths to his disciples, as they walked

to and fro with him.



W e wended our way up and through a wooded section known

as the Pynx . After a brisk walk we stopped before an enormous

rock pitted with age, in which there are two cavelike chambers with benches hewn out of the living rock and giving evidence

of once having been occupied by humans. The entrances now

have iron gateways, which are opened by attendants. A n ex-

hilarating sensation swept over me when I was told that I stood

in the prison cell of Socrates in which — Plato s dialogue, the

Phaedo, informs us — the great S ag e drank the hemlock. It

is difficult to express the emotions we felt, as Plato s masterfully

drawn word picture of the execution of Socrates occupied ourthoughts in the very place where it is supposed to have occurred.

However, we reluctantly drew ourselves back to the reality of

fact, that in all probability, from an Archaeological point of view,

these caves, of which there were others, were part of a prehistoric

city which surrounded the Acropolis.

Nearby was the Aeropagus, commonly called Mars Hill, on

which, it is generally held by historians, the Apostle Paul

preached to the Athenians. Th e structures which now stand

upon the Acropolis were built after the Persians had destroyed

all of the previous edifices and left them in smoldering ruins.

Conceded to be one of the Seven W on de rs of the W orld is

the magnificent Parthenon, the great temple erected, on the

Acropolis, to the glory of the Goddess Athena. One stands

before it overwhelmed at its beauty. Ev en though it is in partial

ruins, there clings to its great Doric columns an atmosphere, ineffect, like a heavy perfume, which so overpowers the senses

that naught but its exotic presence can be realized. A s I walked

along the marble flagging of a peristyle and gazed between the

graceful columns at the city lying below, I wondered what

thoughts must have occupied the great minds which assembled

here on occasion. W ere such idealists limited in the range of

their concepts to a mere consideration of the problems and affairs

of their day, or did they at times separate themselves in mind



from their environment and in suck an inspiring setting envision

the future of the world 2500 years hence? Could they have

imagined that men of other races, centuries later, would passthrough the structures they had planned and built? Could they

feel that their work in many of the arts was so original, so far

reaching, that their influence would be felt thousands of genera-

tions into the future? W ould these men, if alive today, choose

our times in preference to the times in which they lived?

After the destruction by the Persians of the earlier structures

of the Acropolis, Pericles, Fifth Century B. C., statesman, orator,

and lover of culture, began a great campaign for the beautifica-

tion of Athens. From the cam paign came artistic developments

which, even today, remain foremost in the records of the ach ieve-

ments of man. Appropriating the enormous sum, for that time,

of over two and onehalf million dollars, which was derived

mainly from the Athenians, he engaged the greatest Greek

craftsmen and artists of the day to perform the work. Ictinus

was the architect who designed and supervised the building of

the Parthenon. Phidias was the sculptor who beautified it.

Architect and sculptor worked hand in hand in creating these

masterpieces. The columns, for the first time in the history of

architecture, were caused to incline inward at the top, to give

the structure the appearance of stability. To prevent the illusion

of concavity they were gracefully tapered, giving the whole a

symmetrical balance. Ph idias sculptured a frieze of idealistic

figures around the top sides of the temple. The figures, though

human in form, were so perfect, depicting the ideal man and

wom an for which Greece strove, that they became a symbol of

beauty which inspired the citizenry to emulate them. The sculp-

ture at the gabled ends depicted the birth of the Goddess Ath ena

and her struggle with Poseidon, God of the Sea, for possession

of Attica.

W ithin the temple there had stood a magnificent gold and

ivory statue of the Goddess Athena, thirty feet in height and



wrought by the genius of Phidias. Outside of the temple was

also a colossal bronze statue of this protectress of Athens. Th is,

too, was the work of Ph idias. Risin g to a height of seventy feet,the figure held her shield and spear upraised in an attitude of

protection of the city below. It is said that sailors returning home

could see the tip of Athena’s spear glistening in the sun like a

beacon of welcome when their ships rounded Mt. Hymettus.

Is it a wonder that the Periclean period of history is referred

to as the Golden Age?

The days had swept by so rapidly that it was extremely diffi-

cult for us to separate them into periods spent in one country,

on one continent, or in one place. W e had, it seemed, in the

months of our travels witnessed not a series of disconnected past

events, but a continuous parade of human adventure. A t no

time had the threads of man’s efforts been entirely lost in the

transition from one fabric of civilization to another. Decline had

meant a paucity of material, a few minds working to preserve

the heritage of wisdom against the contaminating influences of

ignorance and superstition. 1 hese threads of genius were sur-

rounded, in the eras of stagnation, by the drab incidents of the

deterioration of human morals and thought. Let a time be favo r-

able and the threads transformed all they touched into beauty,

illumination and splendor.

Civilization is a great force put into motion by the concerted

actions of men. 1 he momentum of that force can carry it forward

or backward. It depends upon the direction in which it is started.It is individual human intelligence, inspired intellect, virgin ideas

and concepts which determine the direction that civilization

shall take. Civilization itself does not produce this intelligence,

but merely provides it with an excellent tool with which to work.

Only in a degeneracy of life itself can this intelligence ever be

destroyed. Civilization can and will fall again and again, and

time after time from the purged ashes will arise, phoenixlike, a

mind or minds which will develop another civilization, founded



upon those instincts and precepts which draw men together in

the hope of attaining a common good not individually possible.

The only fear, and that is a remote one, is that some civilizationmay pervert all of the human race simultaneously and close the

channels from which spring the visions which move men up-

ward and onward.

O ur journey was completed. Hom eward bound, we sailed

past the Rock of Gibraltar, through the legendary gates of

Hercules, toward the Western world and the New Age.



Explanatory

V

T H E R O S IC R U C IA N O R D E R

Anticipat ing questions which may be asked by the readers

of this book, the publishers wish to announce that there is but

one universal Rosicrucian Order existing in the world today,

united in its various jurisdictions, and having one Supreme

Council in accordance with the original plan of the ancient

Rosicrucian manifestoes.

This international organization retains the ancient traditions,

teachings, principles, and practical helpfulness of the Brother-

hood as founded centuries ago. It is known as the Ancient M ys

tical O rder R osae Crucis, which name is abbreviated for popular

use into A M O R C . The North and South American jurisdic-

tion of this Order maintains National Headquarters at San Jose,

California, with branches distributed throughout the United

States, Ca nad a, and Mexico. Those interested in knowing more

of the history and present day offerings of the Rosicrucians may

have a free copy of the book entitled. The Secret Heritage,”

by sending a definite request to Scribe A . C . T ., A M O R C

Temple, Rosicrucian Park, San Jose. California.

Ji>7



The Rosicrucian Library

Consists of a number of unique books which are described

in the following pages, and which may be

purchased from the

R O S I C R U C IA N S U P P L Y B U R E A U


V

V O LU M E I

Rosicrucian Questions and Answers withComplete History of the Order

By H. Spencer Lewis, F. R. C., Ph. D.

This volume contains the first complete, authentic history of the Rosicrucian Order from

ancient times to the present day. Th e history is divided into two sections, dealing with the

traditional facts and the established historical facts, and is replete with interesting stories of

romance, mystery, and fascinating Incidents.

This book is a valuable one since it is a constant reference and guide book. Questions

that arise in your mind regarding many mystical and occult subjects are answered in this

volume.

For many centuries the strange, mysterious records of the Rosicrudans were closed against

any eyes but those of the high initiates. Even editors of great encyclopedias were unable

to secure the weird, fascinating facts of the Rosicrucian activities in all parts of the world.

No w the whole story is outlined and it reads like a story from the land of the “ Arabian

Nights.”

The book also outlines answers to hundreds of questions dealing with the history, work,

teachings, benefits, and purposes of the Rosicrucian fraternity. It is printed on fine paper,

bound in silk cloth, and stamped in gold. Price, postage prepaid, $2.00.



VOLUME II

Rosicrucian Principles for the Home and Business

By H. Spencer Lewis. F . R. C., Ph. D.

This volume contains such principles of practical Rosicrucian teachings as are applicable

to the solution of the everyday problems of life in business and in the affairs of the home.

It deals exhaustively with the prevention of ill health, the curing of many of the common

ailments, and the attainment of peace and happiness as well as the building up of the

affairs of life that deal with financial conditions. The book is filled with hundreds of practical

points dealing especially with the problems of the average business man or person in business

employ. It points out the wrong and right ways for the use of metaphysical and mystical

principles in attracting business, increasing one's income, promoting business propositions,

starting and bringing into realization new plans and ideas, and the attainment of the higher

ambitions in life."Rosicrucian Principles for the Home and Business” is not theoretical but strictly

practical, and is in its fourth edition, having had a wide circulation and universal endorsement

not only among members of the organization, who have voluntarily stated that they have

greatly improved their lives through the application of its suggestions, but among thousands

of persons outside of the organization. It has also been endorsed by business organizations

and business authorities.

The book is of standard size, well printed, bound in sillt cloth, and stamped in gold.

Price, postage prepaid, $2.35.

VOLUME III

Th e Mystical Life of Jesus


This is the book that thousands have been waiting for — the real Jesus revealed at last!

It was in preparation for a number of years and required a visit to Palestine and Egypt to

secure a verification of the strange facts contained in the ancient Rosicrucian and Essene

records.

It is a full account of the birth, youth, early manhood, and later periods of Jesus’ life,

containing the story of His activities in the times not mentioned in the Gospel accounts. The

facts relating to the immaculate conception, the birth, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension

will astound and inspire you. The books contains many mystic symbols, fully explained,

original photographs, and a new portrait of Jesus.

There are over three hundred pages with seventeen large chapters, beautifully printed,

bound in purple silk and stamped in gold.

Here is a book that will inspire, instruct, and guide every student of mysticism andreligion. It is one of the most talkedabout books ever written on the subject. Re ad it and be

prepared for the discussions of it that you will hear among men and women of learning.

Sent by mail, postpaid, for $2.50.



The Secret Doctrines of JesusBy H. Spencer Lewis, F. R. C., Ph. D.

Does the Bible actually contain the unadulterated words of Jesus the Christ? Do you

know that from 325 A. D . until 187 0 A . D .p twenty ecclesiastical or church council meetings

were held, in which man alone decided upon the context of the Bible? Selfappointed judges

in the four Lateran Councils expurgated and changed the sacred writings to please them-

selves. The Great Master's personal doctrines, of the utmost, vital importance to every man

and woman, were buried in unexplained passages and parables. “ The Secret Doctrines of

Jesus.*' by Dr. H. Spencer Lew is, eminent author of 'The Mystical Life of Jesus," for the

first time reveals these hidden truths. Startling, fascinating, this new book should be in every

thinkers hands. It is beautifully bound, illustrated, of large size, and the price, including

postage, is only $2.50 per copy.

V O LU M E V

Unto Thee I Grant . . .By Sri, Raraatherio

This is one of the rarest Oriental mystery books known. It is translated by special per-

mission of the Grand Lama and Disciples of the Sacred College in the Grand Temple

in Tibet.

Here is a book that was written two thousand years ago. and was hidden in manuscript

form from the eyes of the world and given only to the initiates of the temples in Tibet to

study privately.

Out of the mystery of the past comes this antique book containing the rarest writingsand teachings known to man with the exception of the Bible. Hundreds of books have been

written about the teachings and practices of the Masters 0/ the Far East and the Adepts of

Tibet, but none of them has ever contained the secret teachings found in this book. This

book is divided into many parts, each part containing a large number of sections or divisions

and chapters.

The book deals with man’s passions, loves, desires, weaknesses, sins, strengths, fortitudes,

ambitions, and hopes. All are treated in detail with illuminating simplicity. Th e book is

beautifully printed and bound in stiff cover, and contains also the strange mystic story of

the expedition into Tibet to secure this marvelous manuscript.

Price, per copy, postage prepaid, only $1.25.

VOLUME VI

A Thousand Years of YesterdaysBy H. Spencer Lewis, F . R. C., Ph. D.

Here is a book that will tell you about the real facts of reincarnation. It is a story of

the Soul, and explains in detail how the Soul enters the body and how it leaves, where it

goes, and when it comes back to earth again, and why.

The story is not |ust a piece of fiction, but a repeJaNon of the mystic laurs and principles

known to the Masters of the Far East and the Orient for many centuries, and never put into



book Form as a story before this book was printed. Th at is wh y the book has been trans-

lated into so many foreign languages and endorsed by the mystics and adepts of India, Persia.

Egypt, and Tibet.

Fascinating — Alluring Jnstructii.’e

Each who has read the book says that he was unable to leave It without finishing it

at one sitting. The story reveals the mystic principles taught by the Rosicrucians in regard

to reincarnation as well as the spiritual laws of the soul and the incarnations of the soul.

It is well printed, bound with a stiff cover, and worthy of a place in anyone s library*.

Price, per copy, postage prepaid, only $1.00.

V O LU M E VII

Self Mastery and Fate with the Cycles of LifeBy H. Spencer Lewis, F. R. C.. Ph. D.

This is entirely different from any ever issued in America dealing with the secret periods

in the life of each man and woman wherein the Cosmic forces affect our daily affairs.

The book reveals how we may take advantage of certain periods to bring success, happi-

ness. health and prosperity into our lives, and it likewise points out those periods which are

not favorable for many of the things we try to accomplish. It does not deal with astrolo gy

or any system of fortune telling, but presents a system long used by the Master Mystics in

Oriental lands and which is strictly scientific and demonstrable. One reading of the book

with its charts and tables will enable the reader to see the course of his life at a glance.

It helps everyone to eliminate "chance** and ’luck," to cast aside fate and replace these

with Se lf Mastery.

Here is a book you will use weekly to guide your affairs throughout the years. There is

no magic in its system, but it opens a vista of the cycle of the life of each being in a

remarkable manner,

W ell printed, bound in silk cloth, and stamped in gold to match other volumes of the

Rosicrucian Library. Price, postage paid, $2.25.

V O LU M E VIII

Rosicrucian ManualBy H. Spencer Lewis, F. R. C., Ph. D.

This practical book contains not only extracts from the Constitution of the Order of

Rosicrucians, but a complete outline and explanation of all of the customs, habits, and

terminology of the Rosicrucians, with diagrams and explanations of the symbols used in the

teachings, an outline of the subjects taught, a dictionary of the terms, a complete presentation

of the principles of Cosmic Consciousness, and biographical sketches of important characters

connected with the work. There are also special articles on the Great White Lodge and its

existence, how to attain psychic illumination, the Rosicrucian Code of Life with thirty laws

and regulations, and a number of portraits of prominent mystics, including Master K. H.,

the Illustrious.

The technical matter contained in the text and in the hundred or more diagrams makes

this book a real encyclopedia of Rosicrucian explanations, aside from the complete dictionary

it contains.

The “ Rosicrucian Man ual’* is of large size, well printed, beautifully bound in red silk

cloth, and stamped in gold. The fifth edition has been enlarged and improved in many ways.

Price, postage prepaid. $3.35.



Mystics at Prayer

By Many Cihlar Austrian Philosopher and Mystic

The First complete compilation of the famous prayers of the renowned mystics and

adepts of all ages.

The hook. "Mystics at Prayer," explains in simple language the reason for prayer, how

to pray, and the Cosmic laws involved. You come to learn the real efficacy of prayer and

its full heauty dawns upon you. Whatever your religious beliefs, this hook makes your

prayers the application not of words, hut of helpful, divine principles. You will Ieam the

infinite power of prayer. Prayer is man s rightful heritage. It is the direct means of man’s

communion with the infinite force of divinity."Mystics at prayer" is well bound, embossed in gold, printed on art paper in two colors,

with deckled edge and tipped pages, sent anywhere, postpaid, $t. to .

V O LU M E XI

Mansions of the SoulT H E C O S M I C C O N C E P T I O N


Reincarnation! Th e world s greatest disputed doctrine. The belief in reincarnation has

had millions of intelligent, learned and tolerant followers throughout the ages. Ringing through

the minds and hearts of students, mystics, and thinkers have always been the words: "W hy

Are W e Here? ’ Reincarnation has been criticized by some as conflicting with sacred literatureand without verification. This book reveals, however, in an astounding manner, the many

facts to support reincarnation. Quotations from eminent authorities, from Biblical and Sacred

works substantiate reincarnation. This volume P R O V E S reincarnation. It places it high

above mere speculation. This book is without exaggeration the most complete, inspiring,

enlightening book ever written on this subject. It is not a fiction story, but a step by step

revelation of profound mystical laws. Look at some of these fascinating, intriguing subjects.

The Cosmic Conception; The Personality of the Soul: Does Personality Surpine Tran

stfton?; Heredity and Inheritance; Karma and Personal Epolufion; Religion and Biblical View

points; Christian References; Between Incarnations; Souls of An imals and the "Unborn” ;

Recollections of the Past.

The book contains over three hundred pages, beautifully printed, neatly bound, stamped

in gold; it is a valuable asset to your library, economically priced. Price, per copy, postage

prepaid, only $2.33.



Lemuria — The Lost Continent of the Pacific

By Wisliar S. Cerve

Beneath the rolling, restless seas lie the mysteries of forgotten civilizations. Swept by the

tides, half buried in the sands, worn away by terrific pressure, are the remnants of a culture

little known to our age of today. Where the mighty Pacific now rolls in a majestic sweep

of thousands of miles, there was once a vast continent. This land was known as Lemuria, and

its people as Lemurians.

Wê pride ourselves upon the inventions, conveniences, and developments of today. W e

call them modern, but these ancient and longforgotten people excelled us. Things we speak of

as future possibilities, they knew as everyday realities. Science has gradually pieced together

the evidences of this lost race, and in this book you will find the most astounding, enthralling

chapters you have ever read. How these people came to be swept from the face of the earth,

except for survivors who have livings descendants today, is explained. Illustrations and expla-

nations of their mystic symbols, maps of the continent and many ancient truths and laws are

contained in this unusual book.

If you are a lover of mystery, of the unknown, the weird — read this book. Remember,

however, this book is not fiction, but based on facts, the result of extensive research. Does

civilization reach a certain height, and then retrograde? Are the culture and progress of

mankind in cycles, reaching certain peaks, and then returning to start over again? These

questions and many more are answered in this intriguing volume. Read of the living descen-

dants of these people, whose expansive nation now lies at the bottom of the Pacific. In the

minds of these descendants is the knowledge of the principles which in bygone centuries

made their forebears builders of an astounding civilization.

The book, "Lemuria, the Lost Continent of the Pacific," is beautifully bound, well printed,

and contains many, many illustrations. It is priced economically at $3.30, postpaid.

VOLUME XIII

The Technique of the MasterTHE WAY OF COSMIC PREPARATION

By Raymund Andrea, F. R. C.

A guide to inner unfoldmentl The newest and simplest explanation for attaining the

state of Cosmic Consciousness. To those who have felt the throb of vital power within, and

whose inner vision has at times glimpsed infinite peace and happiness, this book is offered.

It converts the intangible whispers of self into forceful actions that bring real joys and

accomplishments in life. It is a masterful work on psychic unfoldment.

It 19well bound in cloth, with deckled and tinted edge paper. Secure this treasure for

yourself. Economically priced, postage paid, at $2.00.



VOLUME XIV

The Symbolic Prophecy of the Great Pyramid


Th e world’s greatest mystery and first wonder is the Great Pyramid. It stands as a

monument to the learning and achievement of the ancients. For centuries its secrets were

closeted in stone —' now they stand revealed.

Never before in a book priced within the reach of every reader bave the history, vast

wisdom, and prophecies of the Great Pyramid been given. You will be amazed at the

Pyramid s scientific construction and at the tremendous knowledge of its mysterious builders.

W ho built the Great Pyramid? W hy were its builders inspired to reveal to posterity

the events of the future? W ha t is the path that the Grea t Pyramid indicates lies before

mankind? Within the pages of this enlightening book there are the answers to many enthrall-

ing questions. It prophesied the W orld W ar and the great economic upheaval. Learn what

it presages for the future. You must not deprive yourself of this book.The book contains over two hundred pages, is excellently printed, is well bound with a

hard cover, and contains all necessary charts and illustrations. It is priced at only $2 .35

with postage paid.

VOLUME XV

The Book of JasherTHE SACRED BOOK WITHHELD

B y what right has man been denied the words of the prophets? W ho dared expunge

from the Holy Bible one of its inspired messages? For centuries man has labored under the

illusion that there have been preserved for him the collected books of the great teachers and

disciples — yet one has been withheld — "The Book of Jasher."

With in the hallowed pages of the great Bible itself are references to this lost book which

have puzzled the devout and students for centuries. As i f by Divine decree, the Bible appears

to cry out to mankind that its sanctity had been violated, its truth veiled, for we find these

two passages exclaiming: 'Is not this written in the Book of Jash er "—Joshu a X. 13 ; "Behold,

it is written in the Book of Jashe r"— II Samuel I. 18.

Alcuin discovered this great lost book of the Bible written by Jasher. He translated it

into English in 800 A. D. Later it was suppressed and then rediscovered in1829 , and once

again suppressed.

But now we bring to you an Actual Photographic Reproduction of this magnificent work,

page for page, line for line, unexpurgated. This enlightening work, bound in its original

style, is priced at only $2.00 per copy, postage paid.



The Technique of the Disciple

By Raymund Andrea. F. R. C.

"The Technique of the Disciple" is a hook containing a modern description of the

ancient esoteric path of spiritual illumination, trod by the masters and avatars of yore. It has

long been said that Christ left, as a great heritage to members of His secret council, a private

method For guidance in life, which method has been preserved until today in the secret,

occult, mystery schools.

Rnymund Andrea, the author, reveals the method For attaining a greater life taught in

these mystery schools, which perhaps parallels the secret instructions of Christ to members

of His council. The book is enlightening, inspiring, and splendidly written. It is handsomely

bound with a stiff board cover and the material of the cover is woven of silk thread, and

stamped in gold. Postage paid on shipment to you. Priced at $2 .1 5 per copy.

VO LU ME XVII

Mental PoisoningT H O U G H T S TH A T E N S L A V E M I N DS

By H. Spencer Lewis, F, R. C , Ph. D.

Tortured souls. Human beings, whose Belfconfidence and peace of mind have been tomto shreds by invisible darts ■—the evil thoughts of others. Can envy, hate, and jealousy be

projected through space from the mend of another? Do poisoned thoughts like mysterious

rays reach through the ethereal realm to claim innocent victims? W il l wishes and commands

born in hate gather momentum and like an avalanche descend upon a helpless man or woman

in a 9eries of calamities? Must humanity remain at the mercy of evil influences created in

the minds of the vicious? Millions each year are mentally poisoned — are you safe from this

scourge? "Mental Poisoning" is the title of a new book just written by Dr. H. Spencer Lewis,

which fearlessly discloses this psychological problem. It is sensational in its revelations. Read

it and be prepared.

This neatly bound, well printed book will be sent to you for the nominal price of only

$ 1.25 . It has been economically produced so it can be in the hands of thousands because of the benefit it will afford readers.

Order yours today. Price includes postage.



Gla nd s — Ou r Invisible Guard ians

By M. W . Kapp. M. D.

You need not continue to be bound to those glandular characteristics of your life which

do not please you. These influences, through the findings of science and the mystical prin-

ciples of nature, may be adjusted. The first essential is that of the old adage: “ Know

Yourself." Have revealed the facts about the endocrine glands know where they are

located in your body and what mental and physical functions they control. The control of

the glands can mean the control of your life. These facts, scientifically correct, with their

mystical interpretation, are for the first time presented in simple, nontechnical language, in a

book which everyone can enjoy and profit by reading.

Mystics and metaphysicians have long recognized that certain external influences and

powers of a Cosmic nature could be tapped; that a Divine energy could be drawn upon,

which aFfects our creative ability, our personality, and our physical welfare. Fo r centuries iherehas been speculation as to what area or what organs of the body contain this medium — this

contact beKveen the Div ine and the physical. Now it is known that certain of the glands

are governors which speed up or slow down the influx of Cosmic energy into the body.

W ha t this process of Div ine alchemy is and how it works is fascinatingly explained in this

book of startling facts.

Dr. M. W\ Kapp. long held in high esteem by the medical fraternity, and yet having

a deep insight into the mystical laws of life and their influences on the physical functioning

of the body, is author of this work.

INTRODU CTION BY H. SPENC ER L EW IS. F. R. C . Ph. D.

Dr. H. Spencer Lewis — first Imperator of the Rosicrucian Order (AMORC), of North

and South America, for its present cycle of activity, and author of many works on mysticism,philosophy, and metaphysics — wrote an important introduction to this book, in which he

has highly prajned it and its author.

The book ii well bound with a hard cover; price only S i. 30 with postage paid.

H O W T O O R D E R B O O K S

IF your regular book dealer does not have these books in

stock, and you do not care to wait until he secures them For

you, you may save time by sending your order direct, w ith

remittance or C . O . D ., postage prepa id by us.

R O S IC R U C I A N S U P P L Y B U R E A U

Rosicrucian Pa rk San Jose, Ca lifornia









Read ^lUe&e Com pact ion

H o o k i

When you h ave finished readin g

this book, read as a companionbook, "The Symbolic Prophecy of

the G reat Pyram id.” You will be

amazed at the Pyramid's scientîc

construction and at the tremendous

kn ow ledge of its mysterious builders.

•

It answers such questions as

"Who built the Great Pyramid?" and

"What is the path that the Great

Pyramid indicates lies before man-

kind?”

There are no greater mysteries,nor any more intriguing, than those

of nature herself. Read, therefore,

as a companion to this book, ''Le-

muria—The Lost Continent of thePacific."

It tells of a forgotten civilizationlying beneath the rolling, restless

se as of the Pacific — of the legends

and facts about a vast continent

now submerged, and of the strange

tales of how their peoples survived

•

THE PUBLISHERS Write for the free, fully descriptive

catalogue. Se e publisher s address

on back of this jacket. Your local

dealer will obtain these books for you for examination.



Atte*vUo+t H e a d e /iA ,

The follo win g are iicJAks, .'the .subjects of which arenot only most* interesting, 'bu t also ben eficial and in-structive , Each is' a book .that you. will read many times, and to whjch '/ oy ;. .will frequ ent ly refer. Also,each of the following' works has had seve ral editions,proving itsp opu larity . • ■

Seli Mastery and Fate with the C/cles oi liife (The plan of your'life)

Mansions oi The* Soul^ReincamatioH made understandable)

Leinuria— The Lost Continent oi the Pacific

Mental Poisoning(Thoughts that, en sla ve minds)

Glands—Our Invisible Guardians«* *» • , ' •

Th- Mystical Liie oi JeSupH he unknown period s of Christ s life) '■

Uii'o Thee I Grant

* Ancient Tibetan .writinas)Tne Symbolic Prophecy of" tKe Great

pyramid

Rosicrucian Principles for the Home and Business

Vol. VII

Vol. XI

Vol. xn

Vol. XVII

Vol. xvra

V o l m

Vol.. • V

Vol. XIV

Vol. ii

Vol. IV

iree cata

L E W I S





Documents

Along Civilization's Trail (1940). First edition.pdf